Breaking Down His Walls
by robinwritesallthethings
Summary: Max and Robin both search for someone who can change their lives for the better.
1. Chapter One: Max

Chapter One: Max

 **Warnings: Anxiety.**

* * *

I'm at the library. Usually I don't like places filled with too many people, but the library is all right. Some floors are quiet, so I can hide there for a while if I need to. Even on the floors where people are noisy, it's subtle. Whispered conversations and rushed studying fade into a kind of background hum that's almost comforting.

I look down at my carefully written list, making sure I have all the books I need in the bag that's looped over my arm. They're all about projects that need to be done around the building, but they're ones I don't know how to do. If I have instructions, though, I can figure out almost anything.

Some people would call that smart, I suppose. August would say that it means I don't know how to do anything for myself.

Because I'm weak.

Because I'm a coward.

Because I'm worthless.

I bite my lower lip hard between my teeth to make the voice in my head go away. I'd bite my arm instead, but I can't here. It would look strange.

I crumple my list up in my hand, sticking it into my pocket and grabbing my keys, rhythmically clicking the latch on their ring. It calms me down enough, but I still need to get out of here.

I start to walk toward the desk so I can check out my books and leave, but I stop when I hear her voice.

It takes me a moment to locate her because the lobby is full of people, but the instant I see her, I know, because she looks like an angel.

Bright.

Pure.

Beautiful.

Her light brown hair falls in soft waves to just below her chin and above her shoulders. As I watch, she tucks it behind her ear, which lets me see her profile better. Her face is round and full; the apple of her cheek rises as she smiles at an employee, and her nose has a little swoop to it at the end that's adorable. She's very pale, and her face is slightly flushed a lovely shade of pink. I wish I could see more, but I'm too far away, and I'm afraid to get closer.

I let my eyes wander down over the curve of her neck and shoulders. Her white dress is sleeveless and a little loose, but I can still see her figure. She has well-formed arms and small, delicate hands. She's curvy, a little on the heavy side, but that hardly matters; it doesn't diminish her stillness or her poise. Her legs are shapely; her skirt falls about halfway down her thighs, so I can see most of them.

I realize that I've been standing in one spot for an unusually long time just to look at her. I lick my lips and move to the counter, smiling nervously at the man there and glancing sideways at her. Her mouth is moving; it's plump and curves slightly upward.

"Thank you so much," she says, smiling. Her smile is radiant, and her voice is musical. From this angle, I can see that the only make-up she's wearing is a smear of carefully applied balm that makes her lips shiny. She's not even trying to be pretty. She just is. I wish I could see what color her eyes are.

She turns away and I gather my things slowly, looking over my shoulder and watching her attach a flier to the bulletin board there. I wonder what it says. Once it's up, she walks further into the library. Maybe she's looking for a book.

I wander over to the flier, unable to help myself. I raise my eyebrows in shock and bite my lower lip again when I realize that it says she's looking for an apartment. I quickly scan the details. She's willing to pay $4000 or less a month in rent for at least one bedroom. Doesn't have any pets. Clean. Quiet. A graduate student who has an odd schedule sometimes. Would prefer a locked building if possible.

Besides the price, I have everything she needs. And I can lower the price.

The voice in my head speaks again. It tells me I'm useless, that a woman like her would never want a man like me. No matter how hard I tried, I'd never be good enough for her. It would be better if I didn't tempt myself, because I might not be able to resist.

But I push the voice aside, reaching up and taking one of the little tabs from the flier. If there's even a chance, I have to try.

Someone like her could break me out of the walls.

As I head for the door, I bump into someone and hear a book fall to the ground. My cheeks get hot immediately and I drop her number, opening my mouth to apologize.

The words die on my lips as I realize that it's her standing in front of me.

"Oh!" she gasps, her hand splayed over the visible part of her chest as she steadies herself. "I'm so sorry; I wasn't paying attention to where I was going." She bends down, scooping up her book and the little piece of paper before I can regain my composure. She bites her lower lip as she straightens back up and smiles at me shyly. It's so stunning when she bites her lip; I'm sure I look crazy when I do it.

She holds the slip out to me and I take it, finally managing to smile back at her. Her eyes are hazel, I realize. Suddenly, I can't breathe. She's achingly perfect, and I'm just… me.

"Did you know of an available apartment?" she finally asks, breaking the awkward silence. "That's my flier," she quickly explains, pointing to it. She doesn't realize that I've already noticed her. "My roommates are driving me crazy," she adds, laughing nervously.

I can barely concentrate enough to answer her. "Yeah, I know of one," I manage to say, trying not to trip over my words.

"Do you know if it's available for viewing tomorrow, by chance?" she inquires. "I'm sorry to be pushy… I just need a new place."

She needs something from me. I can help her. That's what breaks me out of my trance.

I want so badly for someone to need me.

"It is," I answer, finding my bearings. "Do you have something to write with? I can give you the address." She nods eagerly, pulling a notepad and pen out of her bag. Most people would have pulled out a phone; I like that she carries something to write on. I look at her bashfully as I give her the information.

"Is there a phone number?" she asks. "So I can make an appointment?"

"No appointment needed," I tell her. "I'm the owner. Any time between nine and five is fine."

Her smile broadens. "Oh, the owner! It must be my lucky day. I'll try to be there around… two? I'm looking at a few other units tomorrow morning."

"Sure. Two sounds great," I answer. I'm not worried about her other viewings. Once she sees mine, she won't want another. "I'm Max. Um, just buzz when you get there and I'll let you in. I'll probably be working, so you can follow the noise." I slip my hand back into my pocket and start clicking my keys again because my ears are starting to ring. It's something that happens when I'm very uneasy, and I know the sound is only going to get louder. For now, the conversation is going well, but I'm getting more nervous by the minute. If we talk much longer, I know I'll screw it up, and then she won't come.

She holds her book to her chest and beams at me. "Thank you, Max. I really appreciate it. I'm Robin, by the way. Robin Ballard." She dips her head reservedly, and I wonder why. It can't be because of me.

Can it?

"Well, Max, I should get out of your hair. I'll see you tomorrow, though." I'm not sure how to end the conversation, and it seems that she doesn't know either, because she simply goes to check out her book without saying anything else. My eyes linger on her for one more moment, and then I finally step out into the cool evening air.

I sling my bag more securely over my shoulder so I can wring my hands together. It's not as obvious as the biting, and it calms me down. Once I'm in the building, I immediately feel better. I'm safe here, because there's always a place to hide. A place where I can be alone if I need it.

I slip quietly into my apartment. August is already asleep, thank goodness. I couldn't have dealt with him tonight. I deposit my books on the bed and slip my shoes off, padding down the hallway to the apartment that I plan to show her.

There aren't any curtains on the windows, so the light from the streetlights and the moon filters in, bathing the rooms in an eerie light. I find it comforting, and the ringing in my ears starts to recede.

I stretch out in the middle of the floor, my arms behind my head. She'll be here tomorrow. I know she'll like it, but I hope she'll love it.

I close my eyes and think about her. I'm tired because of all the anxiety, and I feel myself already starting to fall asleep.

My last thoughts are of how her skin would feel beneath my fingertips.

I imagine that she's soft, like silk or rose petals.


	2. Chapter Two: Robin

Chapter Two: Robin

 **Warnings: None.**

* * *

I hurry down the sidewalk, checking my phone as I go. I should be there just a little before two, which makes me happy; I hate being late.

I check the address Max wrote down for me one more time, slowing as I realize that I'm already there. The brick building is a striking, vibrant red, and I see lots of windows, which I like. I prefer natural light.

I stop at the door, giving my reflection a quick look. My hair is pretty windblown from walking all over the city, but it's still presentable. I straighten the folds of my denim dress and then buzz to be let inside. The response is almost immediate; I must have caught Max at just the right time.

My cheeks flush a little as I recall meeting Max last night. I'm not the type to flirt or get caught up in looks, but I've been thinking about him since I left the library yesterday. He's definitely attractive, and in a very rugged and muted way; he strikes me as someone who isn't concerned with his appearance beyond wanting to look put together, which I appreciate. It certainly doesn't hurt that he's also tall and clearly muscular, though lean.

Not to mention the dark, messy hair, the full beard with just a hint of silver, and the hazel eyes that shift to green in the right light. And those dimples! I didn't think that grown men were allowed to have dimples like that.

I glance around the ground floor as I step inside. The space is lit flatteringly by the sun, and there are sconces molded into the shape of candles on the wall for when it gets dark. A staircase curves behind the elevator; I press the button since I've been walking all day. Once I'm on my way up, my thoughts turn back to Max.

It's not just his body that captured my attention. It was his demeanor too. He had been so kind and polite, but also clearly nervous; I'd gotten the impression that it had been hard for him to talk to me. There was something sweet and sincere about him, and I couldn't help being intrigued.

Not that I should go there, especially if he might be my landlord. And I'm woefully inexperienced when it comes to romantic relationships anyway. Besides, surely a man like him can't be single.

Right?

I step out onto the landing, following the noise just like Max instructed. I'm surrounded by elegant dark wood; the building is exquisitely maintained. I finally locate the source of the home improvement noises, knocking on the door loudly before slipping inside.

"Hello?" I call, walking through the front hallway and looking into the rooms as I pass. This apartment is huge; the one Max has for rent in my price range must be much smaller. Still, if it's even a fraction of this one's size and beauty, it will be well worth the cost.

I round a corner and finally spot him. He's working on the floors. His face is covered by protective googles and a mask, but I recognize his hair. I smile and wave in greeting and he shuts off his equipment. He lingers in his kneeling position for a moment before slipping the googles and mask off and standing. His eyes are wide as he gazes at me, and he bites his lower lip reflexively. He must be nervous. I bite my lip when I get nervous too.

"Hi again, Max," I say quietly, trying to put him at ease. "I can wait if you need to finish," I add, gesturing to everything he has laid out. He looks to the side, wringing his hands together for a moment, and then he slips them into his pockets.

"No, you're fine," he finally answers. "It's nice to see you again, Robin." I realize that he's blushing and I can't help beaming at him. I've never met a man who blushes so easily before. I think it's cute.

"It's nice to see you, Max," I tell him. "I hope you have something good to show me," I tease lightly. "I haven't had much luck so far today." He dips his head shyly, sawdust shaking loose from his hair and falling to the floor. "Your building is beautiful."

"Thank you," he responds, clearly flattered. "I do all the work myself now. My family bought the building in the 40s. A lot of my tenants have started to move out, so I'm renovating the apartments. Until I'm finished, it could get a little noisy around here. I hope that's okay."

"Noise doesn't bother me," I assure him. "I've gotten used to working in loud spaces. Where's the rental you have available?"

He glances around him. "You're looking at it. It's not ready yet; as you can see, I'm still working. But you could move in any time you wanted as long as you don't mind me finishing a few things up around you."

For a moment, I'm stunned. I would love to live in this apartment, but there's no way it's in my price range. Maybe he misread my flier. "This one?" I clarify. He nods, and I stammer, "Oh, Max, I… can't afford this. There's no way. It's…" I trail off, not sure what else to say.

"It's 38," he says softly.

"What?" I ask. Good grief. He probably thinks I'm an idiot.

"The place, it's 38," he repeats. I can only stare at him. I'm completely dumbfounded.

"Thousand?" I finally blurt out incredulously. His face lights up as he smiles, clearly amused at my shock.

"$3800," he explains gently. He's still smiling, but I can tell that he isn't making fun of me. His voice is kind.

I look around again. "I don't understand. Max, this apartment is absolutely stunning. It has to be worth so much more than that." He doesn't say anything; he just shakes his head and keeps smiling at me. "Okay, what's the catch?" I'm exasperated, which makes me snarky. "Is it haunted? Maybe there's a heart hidden under the floorboards that beats loudly from midnight until dawn?" I immediately regret the joke; I always pull out obscure and morbid literary references when I get anxious.

But Max surprises me by chuckling and walking over to one of the windows, gesturing for me to follow him. "No, uh, no Edgar Allan Poe stuff that I know of." His cheeks flush again as I grin at him for getting the reference. He looks out the window at the bridge and the water. "This is the best view in the building," he informs me. "Utilities would be separate, and it does take a lot to heat a place like this, so expect the power company to stick it to you in the winter time."

"Right," I answer, reaching out and touching the wooden windowsill. I can handle snuggling up under a few extra blankets during the colder months if it means living in this place.

Max starts to walk and I follow him automatically, gazing around the apartment. He shows me the bathroom, which has striking black and white tile and muted aqua paint, along with a huge full-length mirror and an old-fashioned bathtub. "A couple things about the building," Max continues, turning slightly to look down at me. "Um, it doesn't get the best cell phone reception."

"Okay, I can figure that out." I don't use my phone a lot anyway.

The floor and walls start to vibrate around us and Max looks at me ruefully. "And there's the train," he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Wow." I giggle a bit. It's pretty bad, but still manageable.

"Yeah," he replies, relaxing a bit, I think because he's glad that I'm not bothered by the few downsides his apartment has. He must really need tenants.

A hopeful little voice nudges its way to the front of my mind and suggests that maybe it's not just any tenant he's interested in.

Maybe he's just interested in me.

I push the thought aside quickly, but not before my cheeks get hot. Max bites his lower lip again as I turn red in front of him. Damn my pale complexion.

"They say the maintenance track runs directly under the building, usually at night," he goes on, casually and kindly ignoring my rampant blushing. He turns, heading back out into the room where we started.

"It's yours if you're interested," he informs me. "You're the first one to look at it."

"I'm interested," I answer, perhaps a little too quickly. He nods and lowers his eyes again. His shyness is completely endearing.

"All right, then I'm going to need your social security number and three references." I nod, pulling a folder out of my bag and holding it out to him. He touches the edge of it and looks at me curiously.

"My social, my references, and my tax records for the last five years. I came prepared." He takes the folder, tucking it under his arm and sticking his hand in his pocket.

"I prefer no pets," he says. "I think your flier said you didn't have any."

"No pets," I assure him. "My schedule changes every semester, so it's hard to have one. And I don't mind following your rules."

The corners of his mouth twitch up into a small smile and he pulls his hand from his pocket, holding out a set of keys. "All right." He pauses for a moment, and then adds, "The, uh, heaters bang loudly in the morning. Just so you know."

I look at the keys and then back at his eyes, which are warm and inviting. "You haven't checked my references," I point out, though he obviously knows that.

He shrugs and his smile broadens until it lights up his whole face. My goodness, his dimples make him transform from handsome to gorgeous. "I will." He extends his arm further until I carefully take the keys from him. Our fingers don't touch, but I can feel his body heat on my skin, and the keys are warm from being in his pocket.

Max stares at me for a few seconds longer, and then he wrings his hands together once more. "Take a look around," he urges. "I'm going back to work so the place will be ready for you." He slides past me, biting his lower lip again.

"Max?" I ask. He turns around to face me, his eyebrows raised. "When can I move in? I can wait if you need me to. I wouldn't want to be in your way."

"You won't be," he promises. "You can move in whenever you're ready."

"Friday?" I venture carefully. "I can give you the first month's rent and any security deposit you need that day too."

He nods. "I'll be here."

"Okay." I smile at him radiantly. I should have to pay extra for having the cutest, nicest landlord in the whole city. "I'm going to go and start getting my things packed, so I'll be out of your way for now. But I'll see you on Friday?"

He grins at me. "Friday." He turns back to his equipment and I walk slowly to the front door.

I lean against the wall by the elevator for a minute to get my bearings. I can hardly believe that I'm going to live in this beautiful place. On top of that, Max will be around all the time. I know we can be friends; I can tell that already. But maybe, eventually, we could be more.

It might be a foolish wish, but I cling to it for the moment. I need some kind of hope to keep on going right now.

No matter what happens, maybe this place can be my new start.


	3. Chapter Three: Max

Chapter Three: Max

 **Warnings: Anxiety.**

* * *

By the time Robin leaves, I'm barely holding it together. There's only so much I can take, and the way she smiled at me, the way she laughed when I tried to be funny… I wring my hands freely now that she's gone. I can do it as fast and as hard as I want when no one's watching.

I think of the way she blushed at me. Why did she do that? She couldn't be nervous because of me. She had no reason to be. She's everything, and I'm… nothing.

Finally, I go back to work. I want the apartment to be as ready for her as it can be. I know I won't be able to finish everything by Friday, but I'll be able to finish enough. And having to do the rest will give me a reason to be around her more.

If I can get more comfortable around her, maybe…

I try not to dwell on it too much. She probably already has someone anyway. She must. Everyone should see how perfect she is and want her.

And all of them would be better for her than me.

* * *

I sleep on her floor every night until Friday. It's different than it was that first night because now the place really is hers. My stomach is tied up in knots as I think about her actually being in the building all the time. How am I going to resist her?

On Friday morning, I push up off of the floor and wander back to my own apartment to take a shower and change my clothes. She'll probably be here soon, so I have to calm down. I'm planning to linger close to the lobby so I know when she arrives.

Then I can offer to help her carry her things in, and maybe we can talk more.

* * *

I hear the moving truck before I hear her. There's only one, and it's fairly small; she must not have many things. I move closer to the door, waiting, not wanting to seem too eager.

Then I hear the mover and the way he talks to her.

"Okay, I gotta be uptown in exactly one hundred minutes, so you got sixty to get the shit out of this rented truck or I gotta charge you for another day." I clench my fist angrily. What a sleazeball.

No one should treat her like that.

I smile to myself a little when I hear her fire back immediately. "Take a deep breath. I don't want you to strain yourself talking," she huffs, clearly annoyed.

I channel my feelings and step outside. At first, my smile is a bit forced because I'm so angry, but I will my voice to sound light. "What, did you hire the only moving guy in New York who doesn't actually move furniture?" I ask jokingly. Robin turns at the sound of my voice and beams at me just like she did the last time I saw her. After that, my smile isn't fake anymore.

She tries to tell me that I don't have to help, but I know she's just being polite. She really does need me. So I insist, grabbing some of her boxes and leading her to the elevator. I press the number for her floor, leaning against one of the side walls. She leans against the other, looking up at me.

Her cheeks are pink again, and her expressive hazel eyes are wide with happiness. "Hi, Max," she finally says, biting her lower lip and then dipping her head shyly. My stomach does a flip, and I squeeze the box I'm holding hard.

"Hey, Robin," I manage to answer softly. I feel my smile grow bigger.

It's getting easier to be around her already. I should turn and run in the opposite direction.

But I want her so much that I can't move any way but forward.

* * *

Between the two of us, it only takes about thirty minutes to get her stuff into the apartment. There's just a mattress left in the truck downstairs. We sit for a minute to catch our breath. She's in an armchair we carried upstairs. I just sit on the floor, my arms propped up on my knees, looking at her and smiling like an idiot.

Here's the thing about me. I know how to act like a normal person. I can hold a conversation, tell jokes, and ask questions, but it takes a lot of effort. I have to wring my hands together, or put them in my pockets and click my keys. No matter what, eventually my ears start to ring and I need to retreat. If it gets really bad, I have to bite my arm or hit my head against something. When it's like that, I usually cry too. It's not fun.

I like to imagine that if I found the right person, it wouldn't be so awful. Maybe it wouldn't go away, but it might happen less often, or be more bearable.

When she smiles at me, I feel like that's possible. It makes me comfortable enough to actually talk to her.

"You don't have many things," I observe. We've put it all in the big main room and it doesn't even begin to fill the space.

She laughs prettily, smoothing loose strands of hair that have escaped the practical bun at the nape of her neck back behind her ears. "That's because my last apartment was smaller than the bathroom in this one," she teases me. "Even when I put everything away, it's going to look like no one lives here."

I laugh along with her, looking around. "Just tell anyone who sees it that you're a minimalist," I suggest. "Then you sound cool."

She licks her lower lip slowly, biting down on it and looking at me bashfully. Her cheeks are flushed again, and I let myself gaze at her adoringly. If I ever thought I was going to be able to stay away from her, I was wrong. I've already fallen hard.

But if I can be with her like this…

Be… normal…

There's nothing wrong with that.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, rubbing the pad of my thumb over my palm. No, there's nothing wrong with being with her like this.

But there are other things to resist.

"Max?" I hear her ask. My eyes flicker open. She's looking at me, clearly concerned. "Are you all right?"

I think about my answer carefully. A strand of her hair is loose again; I'd like to reach out and smooth it back over her ear, but I can't. I won't touch her without her permission. I'm still a little nervous, but not nearly as nervous as I would usually be. My ears aren't ringing. I feel pretty good.

"Yeah, I'm all right," I assure her. I'm surprised that she noticed anything was wrong. Usually people don't notice when I check out for a second, or they purposefully ignore it. But she's observant, and kind.

"I'm glad," she says quietly. She hesitates, and then adds, "Thank you, Max. For helping me today, but also for telling me about the apartment. I… well… I needed a change."

I can tell that there's more to the story than what she's saying, but I don't push her. If she wants me to know something, she'll tell me. "Well, change is good, I think," I venture cautiously. At least, I hope it's good. "Should we go get that mattress?" I stand up, and she lifts herself out of the chair. "I don't want you to have to pay that jerk for another day."

"Me neither," she agrees. She stands close to me, but we don't touch. I nod my head toward the door and she follows me back downstairs.

* * *

She pays the mover while I stand there with the mattress. When he complains about her stiffing him on the tip, her cheeks flush self-consciously, but she stands her ground, telling him that he didn't offer any service worth tipping for. He looks like he wants to say more, but he glances at me and thinks better of it.

I'm not a mean person, and I rarely stand up for myself, but being tall and in decent shape does me a lot of favors.

And maybe he can tell that I'd stand up for her in a heartbeat.

He gets in his truck, grumbling the whole time, and she turns back to me, smoothing her hair again. I fold my arms on top of her mattress, leaning down a little and looking into her eyes. "Are you all right?" I ask gently, and she smiles.

"Yeah, I'm all right." She comes over and grips the other end of the mattress, turning her head just enough so she can look back over her shoulder at me. "Thank you for asking."

"You're welcome," I answer quietly.

* * *

We get the mattress upstairs fairly easily. We set it down briefly in front of her door and she yelps, jumping back a bit in surprise. I look to the side and realize that August is standing in the hallway. My face falls immediately.

I didn't tell August about her. He would have told me not to give her the apartment. He would have told me how weak I am, told me that I won't be able to resist. That I'll drive her away just like everyone else. That I won't have the guts to be with her like a real man would. His words would have gnawed away at me until I convinced myself that he was right and given up.

I didn't tell him because I have to try with her. I have to. She could be the one who fixes everything.

While I've been thinking, she regains her composure. "Hi," she says, her voice shaking just a tiny bit. She glances my way because August is staring at me expectantly. I look back, my eyes begging him not to say anything in front of her.

"This is, uh, my grandfather," I stammer. "August, Robin. Robin, August. She's our new tenant." I can feel her looking at me as August stares me down, and I know I must look disturbed. Finally, August looks away from me and turns his attention to her.

"Got any pets?" he asks curtly.

"No," she answers. Her smile is big, but I can tell that it's just a little insincere. But why?

"Are you loud?" August continues. I grip the mattress tighter.

"No, not at all," she promises. August waits a moment, and then he smiles, holding out his hand.

"Sorry I scared you," he apologizes. She shakes his hand and I cringe. Why does he get to touch her when I can't?

"Nice to meet you," she tells him. Her words are kind, but I hear the reluctance in her voice.

August gives me one more look and then turns to amble back down the hallway to our apartment.

* * *

A few moments later, we're back in her living room. The mattress is leaning against the wall, and now I'm not sure what to do. I'd like to stay, to spend more time with her, but I don't know if that's what she wants. I'm about to apologize for August and tell her that I'll get out of her way when she speaks.

"Um, I was going to order some Chinese food for lunch as a reward for all the hard work. Would you like to join me, Max? It's my treat; you've been so helpful today." Her cheeks flush as she asks the question, and my face melts back into a genuine smile.

"I'd, um, like that. I'd like that a lot," I manage to answer, sticking my hands in my pockets. My fingers are itching to touch her. How soft is her skin? If only I could stroke my thumb over her cheekbone and find out.

What if I could be the man August wanted me to be? The man who could just step forward, take her face in my hands, and kiss her until she was breathless? The man who could just insist and take what I wanted from her?

The problem is that being that man would be satisfying for a moment, but only for a moment. I don't want to take from her. I want her to give to me, and I want to give ten times as much back. I want to treat her like she deserves, and that means not overstepping boundaries until she says I can.

I just don't know how to get to that point.

* * *

I go check on August while she orders food. He's asleep. I put another blanket over him and make sure there's water by his bed in case he wakes up, cleaning myself up a little before I head back over to Robin's. She's headed downstairs to get the food, so I follow her to help carry everything. She gives the delivery person a generous tip and I smile, taking the bags while she finishes with the receipt. She offers to take one, but I shake my head and gesture her into the elevator instead.

Back inside her apartment, we sit on the floor, eating in silence. It's a comfortable silence, though, like we've gotten used to being around each other. I think maybe I should apologize for August, but I don't want to talk about him. I feel like it would ruin the moment.

We can't eat everything she ordered. As she sorts the remaining boxes out on her kitchen counter, she turns to me where I'm leaning in the doorway. "Do you want to take some home?" she asks. "For you for later, or maybe for August?"

I shake my head. "Thank you for offering, but you should keep it for yourself until you get your kitchen unpacked. August is on a special diet, anyway, so I usually cook for us."

"You like to cook?" she asks, placing the boxes neatly in her fridge. "So do I."

I can feel my smile light up my face. We have something in common. "We could cook together sometime?" I suggest casually, seeking her approval. She beams at me.

"I'd like that a lot." She stares at me for a long moment, and then glances around. "Well, I should start unpacking. I like everything organized, and it won't take me too long. And I… shouldn't keep you any longer," she adds, biting her lip again.

Does she actually wish I would stay?

I suck in a deep breath and take a chance on my instincts instead of my treacherous thoughts, which tell me repeatedly that there's no way she wants me around. "I can help you unpack," I say. "And, uh, judge you on the kinds of kitchen supplies you own," I tease, trying not to sound too serious.

She laughs. "You really don't mind?" she asks. She's trying so hard to be polite, but I can tell that she really does want me to stay. I can't believe it.

"I'm yours until you don't want me anymore," I reply shyly. It's a bold thing to say, isn't it? I mean, I don't add everything else I'm thinking. That I'd never leave her side if she asked me to stay. That I'll be hers forever, no matter what happens now.

So I stay and help her unpack her kitchen. We talk about ingredients and recipes and appliances, and she asks me if it's all right to have plants because she's always wanted to have a windowsill herb garden, but her old apartment didn't have enough light. I assure her that it is, and she promises to let me use anything she manages to grow.

Eventually, she starts to slow down. I can tell that she's tired, and as much as I don't want to go, I want her to take care of herself. When she stifles a yawn, I smile at her gently. "Hey," I tell her softly. "Let me help you unwrap that mattress so you can get some sleep. I can come back and put your bed together for you tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that," she insists, yawning again as she says it. I walk out to the living room and she follows me, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"I want to do it," I assure her. The mattress is lying on the floor exactly where I've slept the past few nights. I unwrap it carefully while she gets some bedding out of a box, making sure I put it back in that same spot. I help her spread a sheet over the mattress. She sets everything else down on top of it and then wordlessly walks me to her front door.

"Thank you for all of your help today, Max," she says, gazing up at me. Her eyes are dusky, and for the first time I notice how long her eyelashes are. "I…" She wrings her hands together the same way I do as she trips over her words a little. "I had a great time. I really enjoyed your company."

She did?

In the back of my mind, I know it's true. I push back at the part of my brain that tries to convince me otherwise.

I'm trying to think of something I can say back to her when she stretches up on her tiptoes and gently kisses my cheek. The only part of her that touches me is her lips, but it's enough to make me briefly entertain the idea that I've somehow died and gone to Heaven. She's blushing madly as she lowers herself back down onto her heels, studiously avoiding my gaze. I can feel myself blushing as well.

"I enjoyed your company too," I tell her softly, and her eyes flick up to mine in surprise.

I want to return the kiss, to brush my lips over her cheek, but I hesitate too long, and then my chance is gone. I've allowed myself a lot of latitude today; believing that I deserve to touch her is just one step too far.

I open her door, stepping out into the hallway and turning around to look at her one more time. "Get some sleep, Robin. I'll see you tomorrow." She nods, standing there and watching me until I shut the door. I hear her lock it behind me, sticking my hands in my pockets and slowly walking back to my own apartment.

August is still asleep, so I retreat to my room, laying down in my bed. I take off my shoes, but nothing else. We were together almost all day, so my clothes smell faintly of her. I breathe deeply, balling up my sheets in my hands, remembering how soft her mouth felt against my skin. I chew on my bottom lip restlessly. She's so close. Maybe, if I were a different man, I could still be with her right now.

But I'm not a different man. I'm just me.

And she's the sun, the moon, the stars, the universe exploding out into everything that's ever existed.

It's too late to run away. She's already under my skin.

I'm in love with her.

I could enter the walls. I could watch over her while she sleeps. But it's wrong, isn't it? It's weak. It's cowardly.

So I won't. I will stay in this bed until morning, and I won't see her again until she's awake. Like a normal person. Like a normal man in love.

I turn over quickly, burying my face in my pillow so that August won't hear me crying if he wakes up.

I want her.

I need her.

But I'm afraid I will never be enough.


	4. Chapter Four: Robin

Chapter Four: Robin

 **Warnings: Anxiety.**

* * *

After Max leaves, I walk slowly back to the mattress. I strip off everything but my bra and panties and take my hair down from its bun, shaking it out before I get into my makeshift bed and snuggle up under the blankets. I'm tired, but I can't sleep.

All I can think about is Max.

Spending the day with him was wonderful, even though we were working most of the time. He's the sweetest, most helpful man I've ever met. I feel at ease around him, and knowing that he's so close is almost unbearable.

I hope I didn't overstep when I kissed his cheek. I'm an affectionate person, actually, but I usually keep it to myself because I don't want anyone to mistake my affection for flirting.

Not that I would mind if Max thought I was flirting with him. I am, after all. I'm just very, very bad at it.

I hope I haven't misread him. He's obviously very shy, but I think that he likes me. He found every excuse there was to spend the day with me, after all. I thought about asking if I could give him the kiss before I did it, but I was honestly afraid he would say no.

There's a hesitance about him that I can't quite place. It comes through in his mannerisms. Sometimes he can't speak until he's gathered himself for a moment. He looks at me like he's constantly worried he'll do or say something wrong. He bites his lip and wrings his hands like he's anxious, but still tries so hard to carry on a conversation. He stands as close as he can without actually touching me. He carried all the heaviest boxes upstairs while helping me move in, and he wouldn't let me carry the food either. He notices what I need, like when he recognized that I was tired. And when I kissed him, he blushed, like he couldn't believe I'd done it.

All of it adds up to something. I'm just not entirely sure what.

It occurs to me that maybe it has something to do with his grandfather. Max didn't mention his parents, though he said his family owns the building. Maybe something happened to them. If he was raised by his grandfather, he might be old-fashioned when it comes to relationships.

I sigh. I really do need to sleep if I want to finish unpacking tomorrow. I try to quiet my mind, but it keeps slipping back to how his face felt against my lips. His beard was softer than I'd thought it would be, and he had been so warm. It had taken all of my willpower to not just put my arms around him and sink into that warmth.

I don't take relationships lightly, and I didn't want to do anything too forward until I was sure of my feelings.

The problem is that every fiber of my being is telling me that I'm already sure, and resisting that in order to give him time will be extraordinarily hard.

* * *

When I wake up, sunlight is streaming through the windows. It's clear and beautiful, but I'm no clearer than I was the night before. I exhale heavily and decide to take a quick shower, wondering when Max might show up. We never arranged a time to meet, but I'm sure it won't be hard for us to run into each other.

I eat leftovers for breakfast; I haven't gotten groceries yet. I'm sure Max must know of a place nearby. Maybe he'll even go with me. I smile as I imagine shopping with him. It's such a mundane thing to wish for, but I want it.

After I brush my teeth, I peek out into the hallway to see if Max is nearby. When I do, I notice a bag in front of my door with several items in it. I pick it up and carry it into the kitchen before poking through it. There's a bottle of wine and some bath items, as well as a card with no signature.

It can't be from Max. He would have brought it inside so he could see me again, I'm sure. The gift would have been more personal too, and he would have signed the card. It must be from August.

I slip out into the hallway, padding down to Max's door and knocking. He's probably elsewhere in the building at the moment, but I'll thank August for the gift and ask if he knows where Max is.

August opens the door and I smile. "Hi, August," I chirp a little too brightly. "How are you this morning?" Honestly, he made me a bit uncomfortable yesterday, so I'm overcompensating, but I'm determined to be nice.

"Robin, how lovely to see you," he says, reaching for my hand. I shake his again, noticing that he's staring at me very intently. "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to say thank you for the gift you left outside my door, August," I tell him. "It was very kind of you."

He smiles back, but there's something behind the smile that disturbs me. After a moment, he says, "I'm just putting myself in your shoes. I thought, if I were a woman in a new apartment, surrounded by strangers, what would I want?"

I swallow nervously, unable to speak for a moment. I usually read people pretty well, and if I'm not mistaken, August is trying to scare me, though I'm not sure why. "Not strangers," I reply carefully. "I know you, and I know Max. Your grandson is a wonderful man."

"Hm," August muses. "Is he now?" I tilt my head curiously.

"He is," I assure him, biting my lip as I add, "He's the most wonderful man I've ever met." I don't know why I'm telling him this, but for some reason, I feel like it's something he should hear.

August glares at me after I say it, and I almost take a step back, but then he smiles again. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't get much company."

I take a deep breath. "Well, if it's all right with Max, maybe I could come over and help make you dinner sometime. We could talk."

"I'd like that," he responds, and I nod.

"Okay. I have to go unpack, but I'll arrange a time with Max later. It was nice seeing you again, August." I turn to go, twisting my hands together as I hear the door shut behind me.

I realize that I never asked where Max was, but I don't want to bother August again. I decide to unpack a box to decompress a bit and then figure out what to do next.

* * *

I'm halfway through unpacking the box I chose when there's a soft knock on my door. I stand on my tiptoes to look through the peephole. I know it must be August or Max, and if it's August, I'd like to prepare myself first.

My heart skips a beat when I see Max on the other side of the door. I open it quickly, my cheeks already beginning to flush. Max gives me a huge smile; I wonder what he's so happy about. "Hi," I say, trying not to sound too excited and completely failing. He bites his lip and grins.

"Hey," he answers. His voice sounds nonchalant, but his blushing gives him away; he's just as giddy as I am. "I thought I'd come over and take a crack at that bed."

I stand aside to let him in. "I'd appreciate it," I tell him, shutting the door and following him into the living area. I show him where the bed is going to go and he starts to sort through the pieces. I sit on the edge of the mattress, dragging a box over, intending to sort through its contents while he works. "If you need help, just let me know, Max," I offer. He's glancing over at me every few seconds with that adorable dopey grin on his face.

"I've got it for now, but I might need you later." He licks his lips, his long fingers deftly sorting through all of the bed's fasteners, his gaze lingering on me. I stare right back at him, my smile growing bigger by the minute.

"What is it, Max?" I finally ask. He dips his head shyly, looking away for a moment.

When he turns back to me, he finally speaks. "I just wanted to thank you for being so nice to August. He told me you dropped by."

"You're welcome," I respond, just the tiniest bit disappointed. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I hadn't thought what I said to August would have prompted so much enthusiasm from him.

Oh.

Unless August had told him everything I'd said.

"That was fast," I add when he doesn't respond right away. "I'm surprised I didn't run into you on your way to see him."

His face gets nervous suddenly and he wrings his hands together briefly. "Actually… I was there when you knocked," he admits. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop," he rushes on. "I'd just given August his medicine and was cleaning things up, so he got to the door before I did. I didn't want to interrupt, and I hung around to make sure he didn't say anything too strange to you. I hope he didn't bother you." My smile wavers for a moment and Max frowns briefly. "He did?"

"Not entirely, " I answer honestly. "It was just… strange for a moment." I lick my lips and then softly ask, "You heard… everything I said?" I know he knows what I'm referring to.

He blushes deeply again. "Yes, I did," he replies, just as softly. My face gets hot and I move to sit beside him. I want to touch him, but I don't know if he'd like that, so I wrap my arms around my knees instead.

"He just made that comment about being alone, and it scared me a little. I know it's true, but I don't, um… well, I don't want to be alone. I got defensive. Not that I didn't mean what I said," I add hastily. "I did mean it, Max. Really. I just… I know we haven't known each other that long, and I don't want to assume anything. And then his reaction was so odd, like he didn't believe me. I just… wasn't sure how to take all of that." I sigh and stop talking; my nerves are taking over.

Max swallows, and I realize that his hand is shaking. "You really don't have anyone?" He glances at me curiously. He seems surprised.

"I don't," I clarify. "Do you?"

"No one but August." He takes a deep breath and shudders, his hand still twitching.

"Max?" He turns to look at me, his face a mix of different emotions. "Can I… hold your hand?" I don't move yet, waiting for him to answer.

He squeezes his eyes shut and his brow furrows. Finally, he breathes, "Yes, please."

I reach out, intertwining my fingers with his until our palms meet. His hand is warm, just like his cheek was last night, and his skin is slightly rough, but in a pleasant way. When I look at him, he appears to be concentrating very hard. "Hey," I say softly, squeezing his hand in mine gently. "Are you with me, Max?"

He nods slowly. "Yes, I'm with you." He turns slightly toward me, his grip on my hand tightening. "Here's the thing," he begins. "Up until a year ago, August and I were partners in the building. We did everything together. Fixed everything together, made all the decisions together. Then he had a stroke."

My eyes get wide. "Oh, Max, I'm so sorry," I whisper.

"Thank you," he says sincerely. "And I'm sorry that he frightened you. He's still pretty sharp, but it's been hard for him. And he, uh, worries about me. You know, people from his generation were married with ten kids by the time they were my age, and I'm just, well… I pretty much spend all my time taking care of the building. And the truth is, I'm not very social." He stops, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

"Because it's hard for you to talk to people?" I press carefully. He glances at me, and he's clearly embarrassed. "It's all right, Max," I assure him. "It's not a bad thing. I've just noticed that you get nervous, and I… I don't want to do anything that makes you nervous. I want you to feel comfortable around me."

"Why?" he asks quietly, rubbing our fingers together. His face is carefully composed, but his eyes are desperate.

"Because I meant what I told August," I answer, my voice wavering just a bit as my heart flutters in my chest. "You're the most wonderful man I've ever met, Max. And I… I don't know exactly what that means yet, but…" I trail off. I just don't know what else to say. There are so many things swirling through my mind at the moment.

"You're the most wonderful person I've ever met, Robin," Max tells me. His voice is barely audible, and he looks awestruck as he gazes at me.

"So what happens now?" I wonder. "I only ask because I really don't know, Max. I feel like what I want and what I think I should do are completely at odds, and I… I just don't know. I'm not, um, good at things like this. Flirting and relationships." Suddenly, I let go of his hand and stand up, pacing rapidly across the floor. "I'm sorry, Max. I'm probably making something out of nothing. I didn't mean to…" I stop, putting my face in my hands. Why did I say those things? I sound like some crazy woman who doesn't know how to control herself.

I hear Max stand up behind me. He doesn't touch me again, but I can feel how close he is. I force myself to turn to face him. He's rubbing his hands together slowly, and I lower mine, hugging my arms tightly. "You're not," he says softly; I look at him with wide eyes. "Making something out of nothing, I mean," he stammers. "I'm… I'm not good at this either. You know, it's probably the way I grew up. I guess I just never found anyone that… that got me, I guess. Or that I got. I just… I've never had a relationship that mattered. Or, well, any relationship." He seems to be on the verge of saying something else, but he stops.

"I've never had any relationship either," I admit. "I've…" I blush furiously. "I've never even been kissed." I rush to explain. "I just… I have my reasons for wanting to wait until I know how I feel about someone to do… to do those things. I'm not interested in anything casual, and I guess a lot of people don't appreciate that. I'm… I'm sorry."

When I look back up at Max, he's smiling at me. His lips twitch slightly, and he seems… happy. More than happy, actually. Overjoyed. He extends the same hand that I held earlier, and I look back at him curiously.

"If you want," he says. Before I can think about it too much, I reach out and take his hand in mine again. I instantly feel better, and I sigh, relaxing a bit. Max beams down at me.

"That's okay, that… what you said," he begins. "You know, that, that tells me that you take being with someone seriously and you know, I, I like that." He squeezes my hand tightly. "So let's just, um… take it slow?" he suggests, his voice becoming more uncertain. "Get to know each other. Get… comfortable, like you said."

"I'd like that, Max," I agree.

"Okay," he says softly, his thumb brushing over my fingers. He has such big, strong hands. After another moment, Max withdraws his hand, putting it in his pocket. He strokes his beard almost absentmindedly with the other. "I'm, um, going to put your bed together," he tells me. "If you need anything, just let me know. I'm here, okay, Robin?"

I nod. "I'm here too, Max," I assure him. He nods back to show that he understands, and then turns back to the bed.

For the rest of the day, we work in a silence that's companionable, but also charged with desire. He puts together all of my furniture as I unpack boxes, and by evening, I'm actually done putting everything away. I look around the apartment, smiling broadly as Max comes to stand next to me. "It looks nice," he says, and I nod.

"A little empty, but yeah, it does," I answer. We linger next to each other in the stillness. I'd like to lean into him, but I resist.

He's the one who finally breaks. "Well, um, I should go check on August," he says. "He's probably getting hungry. I'll be in my place if you need me, though." He pauses and sighs. "If you ever need anything, Robin… just come and get me, okay? No matter what time it is."

I turn to face him, looking up into his eyes. "Okay, Max. Thank you." I hesitate for a moment and then gesture to his cheek. "May I?" I ask. He nods shyly, bending down so I don't have to stretch up on my toes quite as far as I did yesterday.

I keep my hands close to my body, still only touching him with my lips. I press a little harder this time, and I linger a little longer, savoring the feel of his soft hair and slightly rough skin against my mouth. When he gasps, I pull back slowly. Both of our faces are hot, and I shyly avoid his gaze.

"Good night, Robin," he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. He pauses and then eventually asks, "Will I see you tomorrow?"

I look up at him through my eyelashes. "I'm, um, going to the library in the morning, just to grab some books. I should be back sometime in the early afternoon."

"Then that's when I'll see you," he says softly. I nod, following him to the front door. Once he's in the hallway, he turns and looks back at me, giving me a sweet smile.

"Good night, Max," I tell him. He nods, his smile broadening, and then heads down the hallway to his apartment.


	5. Chapter Five: Max

Chapter Five: Max

 **Warnings: Anxiety. Attempted assault. Emotional abuse. Language.**

* * *

Robin's kiss lingers on my cheek. The hand she held tingles; it's like she's been etched into my skin where we touched. She was just as soft as I'd imagined she'd be.

She's more than I could have ever hoped for. I still doubt myself, but I'm finally starting to really believe that maybe she can save me.

I smile happily to myself as I remember what she said.

 _You're the most wonderful man I've ever met, Max._

She doesn't have anyone. She's never been with anyone. She takes relationships very seriously. She's been waiting for something real, and she thinks I'm wonderful. She sees me, but she still wants me.

I wanted to stay with her. I did. I meant what I said about taking it slow, because I need to. The voice in the back of my head is still telling me I'm not good enough for her. I try to fight back. I try to tell the voice that that isn't true. I can be the man she needs. I can be the man she deserves.

But the voice has been with me for my whole life, and it is so, so hard to ignore.

Especially when it speaks out loud.

August is waiting for me when I enter the apartment. My smile falters and I hang my head as I make my way to the kitchen to get him some dinner.

He follows me. "I don't know how you convinced that girl that you hung the moon," he begins, "but it's not going to last. I know everything that goes on in your head. You think I don't know how your brain works? Just like your father. Jealous and perverted." I squeeze my eyes shut, my back to him, and bite my lip hard.

I shouldn't listen to him. I should listen to her.

 _You're the most wonderful man I've ever met, Max._

"What's the matter with you?" August asks, clearly disgusted. "Why don't you stand up for yourself? Your mother, she was beautiful. She married a weak man, then she gave birth to another."

Tears fill my eyes, and it takes everything I have to hold them back. I can't cry in front of him. Crying only makes it worse.

Think about her. Think about her kiss. Think about her hand in mine.

 _You're the most wonderful man I've ever met, Max._

"That's enough," I tell August. I try to be firm, but there's no strength in my voice. "I'll have your dinner ready in a few minutes. Go sit down and rest, Grandfather."

Thankfully, he does what I ask.

* * *

I lay in my bed later that night, staring up at the ceiling. The urge to watch her is worse than it was the night before. Part of it is August's words. As much as I don't want to believe him, some of me does. I'm afraid that I can't be good enough for her. The other part is just wanting to know what she's doing. Is she lonely? Is she all right?

Is she sad that I'm not there?

But I resist. To be good enough, I have to resist, don't I?

If I watch her, I'll have to keep it a secret, because if she finds out, she will never want me. She'll be afraid of me instead.

I don't want her to be afraid of me.

I want her to love me.

So I will not watch her. I am going to resist.

* * *

By the time I wake up the next day, I know she's already gone, though I knock on her door just to make sure. I decide to work outside. It will give me some time away from August, and I can wait for her. She said she'd be back in the early afternoon, and despite all my doubts, I can't wait to see her.

I like working around the building. It keeps my hands busy, and I do take pride in making everything look nice. I'm in an easy, familiar rhythm when I finally hear her voice. I stop, turning my head and smiling automatically.

My smile quickly disappears as I hear what she's saying.

"Jack, I said no!" I can't see her yet, but I tense at her words. She's clearly upset and afraid. What's going on?

She rounds the corner. She's walking fast, so fast that she's almost tripping over her own feet. Her face is red, her eyes are wet, and her lower lip is quivering; she's fumbling in her bag, probably looking for her keys. She hasn't noticed me.

There's a man right behind her; he keeps up with her easily. "Just one date, Robin! Come on!" he begs. His tone is flippant. I don't like it.

When she doesn't respond, he laughs, reaching out and grabbing her arm. She tries to rip it free, but he clasps her hard and pulls her toward him. "Or a quick fuck," he adds, licking his lips.

She pushes him, but he just grabs her other arm and holds her in place. "Let me go, Jack!" she pleads.

Something inside me snaps. I know that the first thought that flashes through my mind is so wrong, but I can't help it. It's from some primal place deep in my belly that yearns to be unleashed.

 _She's mine! Get your hands off of her!_

I know she's not mine. She doesn't belong to anyone. She belongs to herself. But I don't have time to push the thought away, because he's hurting her. And it has to stop.

I straighten up immediately and stalk toward them. Every muscle in my body is tight with anger. She's still trying to pull herself away from him without success, and I come up behind her, making sure he can see me. When he does, he flinches and his grip loosens enough to let her slip out of it. Her back hits my chest and she gasps in fear.

Then she turns around and sees that it's me, and her face changes instantly. "Max!" she whispers, relief washing over all of her features.

"Get behind me, Robin," I tell her. She nods and moves, and I inhale sharply when I feel her press herself against my back. She's trembling; I'd like to reach back and take her hand, but I want them both free.

I square my shoulders, looking at the man in front of me. I try to sound intimidating when I speak. "You stay away from her and away from my building," I say evenly. "Do you understand?" He nods, and I wonder how I look. He's not putting up any resistance at all, and I've never thought of myself as threatening. But I stand my ground, and he quickly turns and walks away. I watch until he's out of sight.

The rage dissipates as all of my senses refocus on her, and my body begins to hum with excitement as I realize how much of her is touching me. She's clinging to me; her hands are balled up into fists and she's clutching my t-shirt in them. For a moment, I'm not sure what to do. I know she's only touching me because she's afraid; she's usually so careful about it.

Then I realize that my shirt is damp where her face is pressed against it. She must be crying.

When a loud sob erupts from her mouth, I turn around, grabbing her tightly and pulling her into my arms, cradling her head in my hand and holding her against my chest. The voice in the back of my head tells me that I'm not good enough to comfort her, but I shove it away viciously. I'm not going to leave her like this.

She cries into my shirt and I just hold her. I'm not sure what else to do, partly because I'm distracted by how good she feels pressed against me. I know that's not what I should be thinking about, and I feel guilty. But she's so soft and warm, and she smells so good, and I can't help myself. I just wish it didn't have to be like this. I want her to touch me because she wants to, not because she's afraid.

She sniffles, turning her head and looking up at me. I stare back down at her. Her eyes are rimmed with red, and there are tear tracks streaking down her cheeks. I give in and let my thumb stroke her cheekbone, feeling the smooth curve of her skin and wiping some of her tears away.

"I'm sorry," she says suddenly. "I'm so sorry, Max. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'll, um, I'll…" She stops talking as she begins to cry again, and I feel my heart start to break. Why is she worried about me right now?

"Don't worry about me, Robin," I assure her. "Just tell me what you need. I…" I bite my lip, trying to choose how to phrase what I'm thinking. "I'm more comfortable if I have permission, if that makes sense."

She nods through her tears and manages to sputter, "Just… just don't leave me, Max." She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "And don't stop holding me," she begs. She buries her face back into my chest; she must be able to hear how fast and hard my heart is beating, but my anxiety has eased a little now that she's asked me to touch her.

"I won't," I promise her. "I won't." For a moment, I'm tempted to brush my lips over her forehead, but she hasn't asked me for that. "Come on, Robin. Let's get you upstairs."

She leans against me heavily. "I don't think I can move yet," she says in a small voice.

I nod. "Okay." I think for a moment. "Is it okay if I carry you?" I ask. "I don't want you standing down here on the street. You'll be safer inside."

"Yes, please," she whimpers, echoing my words from yesterday. I take her bag and sling it over my shoulder, then lean down so I can put an arm under her knees and scoop her up. She puts her arms around my neck and presses her face into my shoulder. "That's it, Robin," I murmur. "It's going to be all right."

She shudders against me as I walk over to the door, which I'd propped open while I was working. I nudge my tools inside the door before shutting it behind me and heading to the elevator.

She's quiet as we move up, and I rest my chin on the top of her head, trying to make her feel surrounded and safe. She burrows into me further and her shaking eases a little. "That's it," I say soothingly, unlocking her door and carrying her into her apartment. "Where do you want to be?" I ask her softly, shutting and locking the door behind us and rocking her gently against me.

"The bed," she answers quietly. I carry her to it, setting her down a little reluctantly. I like having her in my arms. As I kneel down in front of her, she slides her hands to my shoulders, gripping me tightly.

"Please stay with me," she pleads, hanging her head, tears still slowly leaking onto her cheeks.

"I will. Don't worry." I circle my hands loosely around her wrists. I just want her to be okay. I gaze up at her for a moment. Her hair is mussed, her eyes are swollen, and her face is flushed pink and stained with tears, but she's still incredibly beautiful. I reach up, wanting to touch her face, but my fingers shake and I stop. The voice is still murmuring in the back of my head, and I'm trying to ignore it.

"You can touch me, Max," she breathes, reaching for my hand and pressing it gently against her cheek. "You can touch me however you want right now. You're not going to make me uncomfortable."

Then she turns her head and presses her open mouth against my palm. The gesture is shockingly intimate, and I bite my lower lip as a shiver runs up my spine. Freedom to touch her however I want is too overwhelming, and if I touched her the way I want to right now, it wouldn't be right. Because I'm not good enough. I know that's true. But also because right now, she's afraid.

I know what fear does to a person. It makes you vulnerable. It makes you want to hide. I hide in the walls when I'm afraid. I watch, because watching is safe. No one knows you're there, and they can't tell you that you're worthless.

I think that she's trying to hide in me. And there's nothing wrong with that. She can hide in me all she wants. But it would be wrong of me to take advantage of her in this situation. I want her to want me completely. When she's not afraid.

"Robin," I murmur, stroking my thumb over her cheekbone again. "I'm here. I'll take care of you. I'll do whatever you need. But… don't do anything you might… regret… later because you're afraid. You're vulnerable right now, and I don't want to take advantage of you. I… You…" I take a deep breath, trying to explain how I feel. "You mean more to me than that," I finally say. "Does that… make sense?"

She nods, and suddenly she's crying again. I stand up, putting my arms around her and letting her cry against my chest once more. I run one of my hands through her hair to comfort her, and just to feel it one more time. It's so soft, and it smells like… I lean down, pressing my nose against her head and breathing deeply… aloe and water lilies. Fresh. Clean. Completely intoxicating.

"Tell me what you need," I whisper. She pulls back a tiny bit and tips her head up so she can look at me. The gesture makes her nose brush my chin, and I move both of my hands to the sides of her face, holding her firmly.

I could kiss her. It would be easy. She's so close, and her lips are parted like she wants me to.

But I'm not good enough. And even if I was, she's never been kissed, and her first kiss can't happen like this.

So slowly, reluctantly, I pull back and wait for her answer. Finally, she speaks.

"Will you… will you lay down with me and hold me, Max? Please?" Her voice is small and uncertain. "Unless… unless it makes you uncomfortable. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"I can do that," I assure her, smoothing her hair with my hands. I look down at myself. "I should get some different clothes, though," I say. "These are my work pants. They'll get your bed dirty."

Her face changes momentarily as I suggest leaving; she looks panicked, but she tries to laugh it away. "You could just take them off," she suggests shyly, hooking a finger through one of my belt loops. "Unless you go commando under there."

I blush deeply and smile at her. "I do not," I confirm, and she gives me a tiny smile. "I won't leave you alone, then," I tell her. "Do you need anything before we lay down? A shower? Different clothes?"

She nods. "My pajamas are in the nightstand drawer." I turn to open it, pulling out the set on top.

"These?" She nods again. I set them gently on the bed beside her. "I'll turn around while you change?" I ask, knowing that she won't want me to leave.

"Okay." She stands up carefully, wavering a little. I reach out to steady her by putting my hand on her shoulder. "Thank you," she tells me, touching my fingers with hers. "I'll be fine for a minute." I nod and turn around, taking a few steps forward to give her some space.

I slide off my shoes and carefully undo my pants, hesitating momentarily before pushing them down.

No one's ever seen me in my underwear before.

At least they look nice. I think they do, anyway. They're black boxer briefs.

"You can turn around now, Max," I hear her say. I turn around shyly, sucking in a deep breath when I see her.

She's looking at me bashfully, her cheeks flushed pinker than they were before. Her pajamas are tiny little shorts that only cover about a third of her thighs and a modest long-sleeved shirt with holes in the wrists for her thumbs. Even without touching it, I can tell that the fabric is soft and light.

The words come out of my mouth before I can think to stop them. "You're so cute," I tell her, biting my lip and feeling my cheeks get hot. She smiles, and it makes me glad. I don't ever want her to hurt.

"Thank you." She blushes more deeply, speaking softly. "You're cute too, Max."

I shake my head a little in response, picking at my shirt, which is soaked with her tears. "Oh," I notice quietly. "This is wet."

She holds out her hand to me. "Come here," she says gently. I step forward and she curls one hand around my arm. The fingertips of her other hand brush against my shirt.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, gazing up at me through her long, thick eyelashes. "That's my fault. I can wash it for you." Her fingers slip under the fabric and graze against my bare belly, and I step closer to her, gripping her upper arms tightly. "Would you like to take it off?" she breathes.

"Yes, please," I answer. My voice is unsteady, and I'm shaking, but as she pushes the shirt up, I raise my arms and pull it over my head automatically, knowing that she's too short to reach. She lays both of her hands on my stomach and then slides them up to touch the rest of me. I wrap my arms around her shoulders as she drags her fingers through my chest hair, panting hard. "Robin…" I whisper.

I want her so much, but I'm being pulled in too many different directions. There's the part of me that desperately desires her and wants to take everything I can get while I can get it. Then there's the voice. Right now, it's not just telling me that I'm not good enough; it's also echoing August's words from last night, trying to convince me that eventually she won't like me anymore. Even though I know she's not like that, it's hard not to listen. And then there's the part that doesn't want to take advantage of her.

What do I do?

She must sense my distress, because she pulls back. "Too much?" she asks. I just stare at her, not sure what to say. I'm so confused. She frowns. "I'm being too needy, aren't I? Max…"

"No," I say immediately, not wanting her to feel bad. "I want to give you what you need, Robin, I just…" I sigh. "It's like I said before. I don't want to take advantage." I can't tell her how I feel about not being good enough. I want to, but I can't.

I've never told anyone those things, and it would be too much to burden her with.

"I understand," she soothes me. "And I appreciate it very much, Max." Suddenly, she yawns, and she lifts her arm to cover her mouth, interrupting whatever she was going to say next.

"You're tired," I say gently, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. This is something I can deal with. "Let's lie down like you wanted to." She nods in agreement, so I lift her up onto the bed; she swings her legs to the side and then gently folds them underneath the covers. Once she's snuggled into her pillows, she looks at me. Her eyes are lidded, and I can see the tiniest hint of dark circles forming under them, but what she wants is clear.

I get into the bed slowly, thinking about exactly how to hold her so she'll be comfortable. Finally, I wrap one arm around her shoulders and pull her against my chest; she curls one arm around my neck and rests the other on the skin between my chest and stomach. I can't resist putting my other hand in her hair again, and I massage her scalp gently.

"Is this all right?" I check cautiously. I don't want to move, but I will if she wants me to.

But she sighs, sinking deeper into me, and hums, "This is perfect, Max. Thank you so much." I move my fingers in gentle circles on her shoulder, finally relaxing myself as I feel her warmth spreading through my body.

"You're welcome," I murmur.

There are so many questions I want to ask her. Who was that man? Why was he bothering her? Is she going to be safe when she's not here with me? Will he come back? Will he try to get in, even though I told him to stay away?

I don't ask them. I don't want to upset her.

There are so many questions I want to ask more than those.

Why is she alone? Why has no one ever wanted her? Is it just that she's never wanted anyone who wanted her? What does she want in a man?

Why does she want me?

I don't want her to stop wanting me. I just don't understand why.

Maybe I should be brave and ask, even though it scares me.

I lean down, brushing my nose against her hair again and peeking at her face.

She's asleep, and she's smiling.

My questions can wait.


	6. Chapter Six: Robin

Chapter Six: Robin

 **Warnings: Mention of harassment. Mild smut.**

* * *

Max is kissing me.

It's everything I imagined it would be. More, even. His lips are soft and pliable, and when I sigh, he slips his tongue into my mouth to taste me.

I slide my fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, making sure he can't pull away. His hips move against mine, and his hands stroke up into my shorts. I lift my leg so I can hook it over his thigh, bringing us closer together.

I want him so badly I can barely think. I'm not sure how we got to this point; we've both been so careful.

I arch my back, rubbing myself on his hard length, swallowing every delicious sound he makes as he responds eagerly.

"Robin…" he whispers, gripping my shoulder and shaking it gently.

"Max…" I murmur. "Please don't stop."

He shakes my shoulder again. "Robin, wake up."

My eyes flicker open. Max is holding me, looking down at me with wide, concerned eyes. As my head slowly clears, he smooths my hair soothingly. "Hey," he says softly. "I think you were having a nightmare."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks and I can't help myself. I start to cry.

Max presses my face against his chest, rubbing my back comfortingly. "It's okay, Robin," he assures me. "I'm here."

That only makes me cry harder. Max sits up so he can gather me closer and starts rocking me back and forth. I can tell that he's worried about me; he's trying to be strong, but he's tense.

I wish I could tell him why I'm upset, but I'm afraid that it will put too much pressure on him. My subconscious and my heart are telling me what I already know, but can't admit to him yet.

I love him.

I didn't know that love at first sight was really a thing, but I've loved him since the moment I saw him. I don't know if I believe in fate, but maybe we were supposed to meet. Maybe being with him is what I've always been meant for. Maybe loving him is what I'm supposed to do with my life.

But how do I tell him that?

I think he feels the same. I really do.

I just don't know how to get us there.

My tears slowly stop, but Max keeps rocking me back and forth. "Thank you, Max," I tell him. I feel his small smile against my hair. "I'm sorry for all of this."

"You need to stop apologizing, Robin," he informs me. "It's all right. You're allowed to be upset." He hesitates, glancing out the window. I follow his gaze, realizing that it's dark. We've slept into the evening.

Max sighs. "I need to check on August," he decides reluctantly.

"Oh, Max, I'm sorry. I've been keeping you from everything, haven't I?" As much as I don't want to, I pull back out of his embrace. He keeps my hand in his.

"You're not keeping me from anything," he reassures me. "I'd…" He blushes. "I'd rather be here with you," he admits. I finally return his smile, and he beams at me happily. "I'll come back right after I check on him," he promises. He still hasn't let go of my hand; he appears to be thinking. "Do you have food?" he finally asks.

"I don't," I answer sheepishly. "I was going to ask you if there was a market nearby when I got home today, but…" I trail off, and he reaches out, touching my face.

"I'll bring something back to make for us," he says quietly. "Do you like breakfast for dinner?"

I laugh lightly. "I love breakfast for dinner. Thank you, Max." He dips his head shyly and gets out of the bed, wandering over to his clothes. I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my chin on top of his knees, watching him.

He really is a beautiful man. He's tall, lean, and long all over. Long legs, long arms, long fingers. He isn't overly muscular, but he's toned; his arms and legs are taut, and his chest and belly are solid. I already miss leaning against him.

He's fairly dark; I'd say tan, but the color is uniform. It looks gorgeous on him, especially combined with his dark brown hair. For the first time, I notice that he has quite a few tattoos; they're all in deep black ink and stand out against his skin. I'll have to ask him what they mean sometime.

He pulls his shirt over his head and turns to look at me. I know that I'm blushing, and I blush more as his warm hazel eyes light up when he meets my gaze. He comes back to the bed for a moment, running his fingers up my leg and supporting himself on one hand as he carefully kisses my cheek. I suck in a sharp breath and lift my hands to his face, stroking his beard gently. "Is this okay?" I whisper. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, Max." I know I've said it before, but he seems so eager to please me that I'm afraid he'll push himself too far.

He rests his cheek against mine tenderly, moving his hand from my leg to my face, smoothing his thumb over my cheekbone. "You like doing that," I murmur, shivering as he kisses me again.

"Do you not like it?" he asks uncertainly. I smile, running my own thumb over his cheekbone in response. He shudders and his lips part against my skin.

"I like it very much, Max," I answer reassuringly. "You can do it whenever you'd like." He kisses my cheek and rubs his thumb against my skin one more time before finally pulling away.

"I'll be back soon," he says. His voice is deep and husky, and it brings my dream back to me. I nod, biting my lip as I watch him go.

* * *

While Max is gone, I curl up in the corner of the bed that he laid on. The pillow smells like him, and I inhale deeply. There are faint notes of cleaning polish and paint, but those scents are dominated by something slightly musky and woodsy that's more natural. He doesn't wear any cologne, which I like.

I wrap my arms around the pillow and think about my dream. It was so real, and it felt amazing. I wish I could just tell him about it. If I was brave enough, I'd just pull him down onto the bed on top of me and kiss him and make it happen.

But after what happened today, I worry that maybe he won't be as interested anymore. Jack is just the beginning of my baggage. I'm screwed up, and if he knew everything about my life, he'd probably run away screaming. I know I have to tell him eventually if we're going to move forward, but I'm afraid.

I try not to think about it. Instead, I bury my face in the pillow and just take deep breaths. Because of today, I can't sort my feelings out right now.

I just know that, despite all my doubts, I want him near me.

He's not gone long. I hear the door open when he comes back, but I stay where I am. He moves into the kitchen and opens the fridge, and then he comes back into the bedroom.

The bed dips as he sits beside me. I see that he's changed his clothes. He's wearing a black t-shirt and matching loose sleeping pants. They look soft. He brushes my hair away from my face and smiles down at me.

"Are you okay, Robin?" he asks. I sigh, hugging the pillow tighter.

"I don't know, Max," I answer truthfully. My voice is small. I feel lost.

Max stretches out on the bed beside me, tugging the blankets over us and then pulling me close. I put my arms around his neck and he slides down enough so that our noses are touching and I'm looking into his eyes. I feel so much better when he's here.

"Who was that man today?" he wonders gently. I sigh; I should tell him. He might come back, so he needs to know.

"His name is Jack Proctor," I say quietly. "We're in the same degree program at school. He's asked me out a few times. I've said no every time, but he won't leave me alone." Max frowns, but doesn't say anything. "I think he likes the challenge. He keeps asking because I won't give in. He's never done anything like what he did today before. He just happened to be at the library when I was there, and he followed me. I didn't realize until I got back here. That was when he came up to me."

Max rubs his nose against mine slowly. My stomach tightens, partly from nerves due to talking about Jack, and partly from remembering my dream and having Max so close.

"I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there today, Max. I can't thank you enough." I get shaky as I remember backing up into him. I'd been terrified. I thought Jack had brought a friend with him and they were going to corner me. Turning around and seeing Max had immediately made me feel safe.

"I'm glad I was there," he says, his hands moving over my back, rubbing gently in circles to soothe me. "If he ever comes back here, you get me, okay? No matter what I'm doing." I nod, sliding my hands up the sides of his face, burying my fingertips in his hair. He stares at me worriedly. "Will you be all right when you're at school?"

"I really don't know," I admit. "I…" I hesitate. I haven't said what I'm about to say to him to anyone, and I don't want him to think badly of me.

"Tell me, Robin," he pleads. "Don't be afraid to talk to me, please."

"Okay," I breathe, swallowing and closing my eyes for a moment. When I open them again, he's got a small smile on his face. Is that from looking at me? From me trusting him? I'm afraid to ask.

"I've been thinking about leaving school," I tell him truthfully. "I just… don't enjoy it anymore. I used to. And it's not just Jack. He's kind of the last straw. But I don't know what I'd do instead. I've been doing this for so long." I sigh. "One of the reasons I started looking for my own place was so I could get away and think about all of this. My roommates are all in the program, and they kept trying to get me to say yes to Jack. They'd invite him over and he'd bother me; it was hard for me to get anything done. I… needed this place, Max."

I bury my face in the side of his neck. His whole body is pressed up against mine, and he feels like home. I want to tell him, but I can't.

Instead, I whisper, "This place feels like home, Max. Safe. Warm. Inviting. You did that for me. And you kept it that way for me today."

Max holds me tighter, bending his head so he can press his lips against my ear. "Good," he murmurs.

I squeeze him as hard as I can. I want to say so much to him, but I can't. I'm too afraid, and I'm too worried, and all of my feelings are ripping me apart inside.

I start to cry again.

Max moves so we're back in the position we slept in before, making sure the blankets are tucked around us securely. "Shh, shh," he soothes me. "It's all right, Robin. Everything will be fine. I know you'll figure it out. And I'm here with you. I'm not going anywhere."

I believe him. I do. I just don't know what to do about it.

So I just cry into his chest and let him comfort me as much as he can in this moment.

"Just sleep, Robin. It's okay. You'll be clearer in the morning." He presses his mouth against my hairline and just lets his lips rest there.

"Thank you, Max. I…" I bite my tongue to stop myself from revealing too much. "Just… thank you."

"You're welcome," he responds. "Rest now."

I cry myself to sleep in his arms.


	7. Chapter Seven: Max

Chapter Seven: Max

 **Warnings: Anxiety. Emotional abuse. Language. Masturbation. Voyeurism.**

* * *

I hold Robin all night, wishing I could do more. Ever since I woke her up from her nightmare, she's been so sad.

I didn't realize that her life was so hard. It's strange; you would never guess it from the way she smiles. When she smiles, everything seems perfect.

I always thought that people like her, normal people, didn't have problems. At least not the way I do.

Maybe I was wrong.

So what do I do? How do I help her?

I think I can protect her from that man, Jack, but what about when she's gone? What if he tries to hurt her and no one's there? I can't bear to think of anything happening to her.

I can't even begin to think of anything I can do for her about school. I don't know how to give advice about things like that.

So I just keep holding her. She burrows into me, her head tucked under my chin, her hands gripping my shirt. I stroke her hair and her cheek until I can't help being lulled to sleep by her softness and warmth.

* * *

I wake sometime in the early morning and reluctantly slip out of her bed, laying her gently down on the pillow and covering her with the blankets. She needs to eat, so I head into the kitchen to make her breakfast.

I like cooking. It makes sense, which calms me down, and I get to create something out of the chaos of random ingredients. Plus, it's useful, and I don't feel useful very often.

Once I put on coffee, I hear her get up. I hope she feels better.

The instant she walks into the room, I know she doesn't. I feel my face fall, and I bite my lip worriedly. What do I do?

She gives me a half-hearted smile, but I can tell she doesn't mean it. She curls up in a chair, resting her chin on her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs. She doesn't say anything.

The food is ready, so I set a plate in front of her and pour coffee for both of us. She picks at it absentmindedly, even though I know she must be hungry.

I want to ask her if I did something wrong, but I feel like that makes it about me. I want it to be about her. As I'm thinking about what to say, she speaks.

"I'm sorry, Max," she murmurs. "About yesterday. I was too forward and I shouldn't have been." I open my mouth to tell her she's wrong, but she stops me. "Don't tell me I wasn't. I was. I shouldn't have dumped my problems on you like that. It wasn't right."

There's so much I want to say to her. This would be the moment, wouldn't it? To tell her that she didn't overstep, that I don't mind taking care of her, being there for her, holding her. That if that's all she wanted from me for the rest of my life, I would give it to her.

But I feel like she's pushing me away, so I bite my tongue. Maybe she's finally realizing that I'm not good enough for her, just like August said she would.

She sighs. Her eyes are wet, and her lip is trembling. I want to reach for her, but I feel like the period of openness between us has ended for now. "I think you should just go, Max," she finally tells me. "Please," she begs, and then buries her head in her knees.

I know she's crying, and I don't want to leave. I want to make her feel better. But she wants to be left alone, and I don't have the confidence to do anything but obey.

* * *

For the rest of the day, I work around the building. She never leaves her apartment. I come so close to knocking on her door several times, but in the end, I always back away. By evening, I'm having a hard time concentrating. My ears are ringing, and I keep putting my hand in my pocket to click the latch on my keys.

By the time I go back home, I'm in bad shape, and August is waiting for me when I walk in the door.

I make him dinner. The whole time, he tells me that he knew this is how it would be. I spent the whole night with her and I didn't have the courage to take what I wanted. She's realized that I'm not enough of a man for her. It won't be long before she realizes that there's something off about me.

I finally get him to go to sleep, but I know I won't be able to sleep even if I try. So many words are echoing through my head.

Jealous.

Perverted.

Weak.

Coward.

Worthless.

I don't know what to do. She makes the words fade into the background. They were almost entirely gone when she was in my arms last night. Yesterday, I might have been brave enough to knock on her door and see her, but after this morning, I can't do that.

I should try to resist my other option. I've been resisting it since she got here.

But today has been too much, and I need to see her.

* * *

It's been a while since I've been inside the walls. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust, and cobwebs stretch across each doorframe as I crack them open. I use the flashlight I've brought, moving quickly and quietly. I know exactly where to go to see into her apartment.

I decide to start with the bathroom mirror. It's two-way, so if she's inside, I'll be able to see her through the glass. As I approach it, I shut off the flashlight. It's unlikely, but she might be able to see the beam, and I need to be careful.

I suck in a breath as I realize that she's there. She's still wearing her pajamas from this morning, and she's filling the bathtub. She tests the water, then turns and comes to the mirror.

I bite my lower lip hard. It's like she's standing right in front of me, but of course she doesn't know I'm here. Her eyes are bloodshot and rimmed with red; has she been crying all day? I reach out and my fingers graze the smooth glass surface. I don't understand why she's so sad, and I don't know how to fix it.

I should feel guilty. In the back of my mind, I do, but the words and the ringing are already going away because I'm so close to her. I know it's wrong. She hasn't given me permission to see her like this.

But she never will anyway. I'm not good enough for her. So this is all I'm going to get.

She takes a deep breath, pushing her hair over her ears and staring into the mirror. When she speaks, it startles me.

"You'll be okay," she says to her weary reflection. "Everything will be okay. You'll figure it out, and it will all be fine. Just… take a bath and relax. Everything will look different in the morning." I can tell she's fighting back tears.

"Why don't I believe myself?" she finally whispers, hanging her head in frustration.

She talks to herself. I file that away in the back of my mind. What kinds of things does she talk about when she thinks no one is listening?

She turns back to the bathtub, shutting off the water now that it's a little over half-full. "Just relax," she repeats, as if she's trying to convince herself that she can. I know what that feels like. I wish I could help her.

She stops for a moment. It's like she's centering herself.

Then she reaches down, sliding her hands into the waistband of her shorts, and slips them carefully down her legs, stepping out of them and dropping them into the hamper by the door. My breath catches in my throat as I realize that she's wearing nothing underneath. Was she wearing them like that while I was holding her?

She strips her shirt off and tosses that into the hamper too. I'd already noticed that she's neat and organized, and that she treats her environment with respect. I'm trying not to look at her because now she's completely naked, but when she walks back over to the mirror instead of getting in the tub, I can't resist.

She's almost blindingly pale, and I can tell just by looking at her how smooth her skin is. Even though I've felt some of it beneath my fingers, I itch to feel the rest.

I can see her curves perfectly now that she has no clothes on. My skin flushes as I remember how she pressed against me last night.

Her breasts are perfect. They're large, round, and tipped with small, delicate pink rosebud nipples. They rise alluringly as she puts her hands in her hair, piling it up on top of her head and looking at herself from the side.

She runs her hand down between her breasts and flattens it out against her stomach. She's heavier than I initially thought when I first saw her, probably because of the way she was dressed. She sighs and sucks her stomach in as I watch; clearly, she's self-conscious. I wish I could tell her that she doesn't have to be.

She's breathtakingly beautiful, and if anyone has ever tried to tell her otherwise, they are absolutely wrong. But as I watch her run her hand over her pear-shaped hips and then down to her thick thighs, I can tell that she doesn't know that.

Finally, she lets her hair go and drops her arms, reaching back and squeezing one of her buttocks. "At least you have a great ass," she mutters at herself, walking back over to the tub. I chuckle and smile a little. She's so cute. I just want to reach out and hold her and assure her that she's gorgeous.

Though part of me doesn't want to leave the mirror because it gives me a larger view of the room, I decide to move further into the walls so I see her better in the tub. Even as I make my way through the dust and the water dripping from the pipes, I'm telling myself that I shouldn't be doing it.

But the voices in my head are almost silent, and the ringing in my ears is gone; the only bothersome undercurrent that remains is the guilt, and even that's faint when I lose myself in looking at her.

I reach the peephole that looks directly at the bathtub, kneeling as I lift it quietly and delicately with a finger. She's already settled in. Her head is tipped back, her hair fanned out over the smooth porcelain. Her feet are out of the water, tucked one over the other in a corner. She has a book on a vintage crate that sits next to the tub, but she's not reading it. She contemplates it for a moment, then dips her hands into the bath instead.

There's a thick layer of bubbles on top of the water; I smell gardenias and nectarines and think of how lovely it would be to put my face against her neck and breathe that scent off of her skin. I lean forward, resting my head against my hand as I stare at her. The water stops just underneath her breasts, and because of the way she's sitting, they're arched upwards.

I lose track of time. She becomes incredibly still, the water barely moving around her. Finally, I realize that she's asleep, and for a moment, I panic. What if she slips underneath the water? Obviously I'd go fish her out, but then I'd have to explain how I knew. I watch her carefully, intensely, for even the slightest sign of movement.

But she doesn't move. For some time, she just looks extraordinarily peaceful, like she looked when she was sleeping in my arms. Then her face twitches just slightly, and she startles awake as the train rumbles by the building.

She sits up, sighing and running her hands through her hair. Her face is distressed. "Not again," she mumbles dejectedly, hanging her head. When she raises it again, she huffs, "Fuck it! Just enjoy yourself and feel guilty about it tomorrow."

I'm shocked for a moment. I've never heard her use such harsh language. Somehow, though, it still sounds beautiful coming from her lips. But what is she guilty about? I don't understand.

She leans back again, moving one of her feet to the other corner of the tub so that her legs are spread open. She sighs deeply and her hands emerge from the water, sliding slowly up her stomach. What is she doing?

Then her palms slide up over her breasts, her hips shift underneath the surface of the water, and she begins to gently pluck at her nipples with her fingers.

Oh.

She moans softly; my eyes widen and my tongue peeks out between my lips. She turns her head to the side and arches her back, pressing her breasts more firmly into her hands and twisting her nipples harder.

Abruptly, I close my eyes. I should not watch her do this. This is too much. It's intimate. It's the way I want to touch her. I want her to ask me to put my hands on her like that. Imagining it is bad enough. Watching her do this when she thinks she's alone? It's a stunning invasion of her privacy. I've never watched anything like this before.

I'm on the brink of shutting the peephole and leaving the walls. I've watched her enough for tonight; I can probably make it until the morning without more. I take a deep breath, assuring myself that I can step away. And then…

"Max…" she breathes. My eyes snap open.

What did she just say?

Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I just want her so badly that I'm hearing it in my head. I look at her again. She's writhing in the tub, one hand still at her breasts, roaming over them and teasing her nipples as she goes. They've hardened into taut little peaks, and she gasps each time she tweaks one between her fingers. Her other hand is beneath the water, but I can see her arm moving in circles; I know what she's doing.

I shake my head to clear it. She didn't say my name. It was just a fever dream moment inside my mind.

Then her hand starts to move faster, and…

"Max!" This time it's not a breathy whisper. It's a small cry.

She's really saying my name.

I struggle to keep my breathing in check as I reach down to undo my pants. I need some relief from the pressure. I've been aroused before, but never like this. Every time she says my name, I twitch violently, and now she's saying it over and over. Her toes curl against the edge of the tub, and she's panting.

I have never wanted to be with her more. If I could make her feel like that… if I could be the reason those noises were coming out of her mouth…

What is she thinking about? Is she imagining my hands on her? My mouth?

Is she wishing I was inside her?

Suddenly, she unfurls before my eyes, clapping the hand that was on her breasts over her mouth to stifle her excited yell as she climaxes. I cover my own mouth with my hand to make sure that no sound escapes; if she heard me, it would be disastrous.

"Max, Max, oh yes, Max!" She gasps my name wantonly through her fingers, all of her lovely skin flushing pink as she squeezes her legs together and lets them slip below the water. She keeps her hand over her mouth, breathing hard.

Finally, she swallows, letting her hand fall back into the bath as she curls up on her side and closes her eyes. Her hair falls gently over her cheek, and the corners of her lips curve up into a smile. She seems to have found some kind of clarity.

So have I, but it's the wrong kind.

I shut the peephole and lean back against the opposite wall. Every nerve in my body is begging me to touch myself, but I know I won't be able to finish even if I do. My guilt is too acute.

She wants me.

She wants me to touch her, to give her pleasure.

And I've just ruined it all by watching her.

I slam my arm over my mouth just in time to catch my loud sob, and I bite down hard as tears start to stream down my face.

What have I done?


	8. Chapter Eight: Robin

Chapter Eight: Robin

 **Warnings: None.**

* * *

I sit up in bed, gazing out my window at the cloudless blue sky. It's a gorgeous day.

I dreamed about Max again, even after giving in to my previous dreams in the bathtub the night before.

I feel so badly about the way I treated him yesterday. I pushed him away because I was afraid that being honest would kill any interest he had in me, and I realize now that I wasn't putting enough faith in his feelings.

I hope he'll let me make it up to him.

One of my classmates has an art opening nearby today. As much as I don't want to drop by, I promised I would. I also need to go to the market.

Maybe, if I ask, Max will come with me and we can make a day of it.

* * *

I step into the hallway, planning to knock on Max's door. I hope he answers; I'm not eager to talk to August again.

Thankfully, I don't have to knock at all. I turn my head to the side and see that Max is working near the elevator. I take a deep breath, glancing down at my navy skirt, white top, and navy flats. I look nice. I suppress the urge to touch my hair so I don't ruin my simple updo and approach Max.

He hears me coming; he moves his head and sees me out of the corner of his eye. I stop, smiling gently at him, not wanting to assume that we're in the same place that we were that night when he held me.

He stops working, turning all the way around so he's facing me. He looks reluctant, and I can't blame him after what I said yesterday. "Hi, Max," I start, my heart pounding nervously. "How are you today?"

Max gazes at me silently for a moment; his eyes are guarded and wary. I bite my lip and twist my hands together. I think about leaving without saying anything, but now that I know what I want, I can't give up without trying.

Before he can speak, the words rush out of me. "I'm so sorry about yesterday, Max. I was upset with myself, not you. I don't usually tell people my problems. I felt like I burdened you unfairly, and that made me self-conscious. I should have just explained instead of pushing you away. I… I don't want to push you away, Max." I stop before I say too much; he'll probably need time before he can hear all of that.

He finally smiles at me, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. I can't help but feel that something happened between us that I missed.

"You don't?" he asks quietly. He slips his hands into his pockets, and even though he's a grown man who's a foot taller than me, he looks like a lost little boy. I step forward, closing the distance between us and risking touching his arm lightly.

"I don't, Max," I assure him softly. "You have every right to not forgive me for the way I treated you, but I'd like another chance."

"There isn't anything to forgive," he answers, removing a hand from one pocket and stroking my fingers gently. He looks me up and down. "You look wonderful," he compliments me shyly, and I beam at him. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that, if it's all right?" I respond. He nods curiously, so I continue. "I promised I'd drop by a classmate's art opening today, and then I thought I'd go to the market. I wanted to ask you if… if you would come with me," I venture nervously. "Like, um… like a date." I feel my cheeks blaze as I say it, but I want him to know exactly what I mean.

He hesitates slightly, but then his smile grows bigger and he dips his head bashfully. "I'd like that very much," he tells me, then plucks absentmindedly at his shirt. "But I can't wear this."

"We wouldn't have to leave for another hour," I inform him. "I'm ready early."

"Okay. Let me shower and change and I'll be ready to go."

* * *

I try to sit and read while I'm waiting for Max to get ready, but end up just fluttering anxiously around my apartment instead. I'm so glad that Max said yes, and I hope that I can repair any damage I've done to our relationship.

I happen to be by the door when he knocks, so I open it immediately. I don't care if I appear eager; I want him to know how excited I am to see him.

My breath catches in my throat as I look him over. He's absolutely stunning.

His hair is still slightly damp; as a result, it's curling wildly. His crisp white button-down shirt stands out beautifully against his dark skin; the sleeves are rolled up to expose his taut forearms, and the first few buttons are undone, revealing some of his lovely chest hair.

I blush deeply as I gaze at him and then blurt out, "You're beautiful, Max."

His cheeks flush pink and he looks at me timidly. "Thank you," he murmurs awkwardly, taking a deep breath and turning to hold his arm out to me. "Shall we?"

I grin happily, curling one arm through his and resting my other hand on his bicep. "Thank you, Max," I say sincerely. "I'm looking forward to spending the day with you."

He smiles. It still doesn't quite reach his eyes, but they're lighter, at least. "I'm looking forward to spending the day with you too," he replies. I can hear the truth in his voice, but there's a tremor behind it that I can't quite place. Is he afraid I'll hurt him again?

I swear to myself that I won't. I'll show him that he can trust me.

* * *

The art opening is uncomfortable, to say the least. I don't really want to be there, and I can tell Max is nervous around all the people. I haven't let go of his arm since we left the building, and he doesn't seem to mind.

After we've given everything a cursory look and I know my colleague has seen me, I lean up close to Max's ear and whisper, "Wanna get out of here?"

He smiles at me, his cheeks flushed again. "Yes, please. Everyone is staring at us."

I glance around, realizing that he's right; it's my turn to blush again. "They've never seen me with a man before," I say quietly. "They're probably wondering why someone as handsome as you is interested in someone like me."

Max pulls me closer to him, lifting his other hand and stroking my cheekbone gently. My lips part in a surprised gasp; I wasn't sure if he'd be willing to touch me like this again so soon. His fingers are warm and slightly rough against my face, and I lean into his palm.

"You shouldn't say things like that about yourself," Max admonishes me. "Robin, you're…" He sighs. "You're beautiful. You're perfect. No matter what happens, don't doubt that."

For a moment, all I can do is beam up at him. I can fix this. I know I can.

"Thank you, Max," I tell him breathily. "Now let's go. I'd rather spend my time with just you."

"Me too," he answers, relieved.

* * *

Before heading to the market, we get coffee. Max takes me to a place he likes near a park by the water. As we walk, he asks about my family.

I tense at the question. My family is something I don't talk about very much. But I want to be honest with him, so I decide to tell him a little and save the heavier stuff for later.

"My parents got divorced when I was seven," I tell him. "They never got along after that. I, um, left as soon as I could and I haven't talked to them since. It was a hard way to grow up." We're standing by a bench, and I gesture to it. "Do you want to sit down and take in the view?"

He nods, gazing at my face. We sit down, close enough so that our legs are touching. I still haven't let go of his arm. I look at the water, trying to think of how to say what I want to say.

Max never looks away from me, and I blush as I realize that he thinks the view that's most worth looking at… is me.

That gives me the courage to speak.

"I just… I never really knew where my home was, Max," I confess quietly. "When I was little, um, I used to walk around the neighborhood at night and I'd look into windows at families. Brothers, sisters, parents, eating, you know, talking, and um, I knew I couldn't have that, but just watching them, it somehow made me feel like I was part of it." I look around at the crowd of people spending their day in the park. "Seeing all these families, it's sweet." My face is hot; I'm not sure what he'll think about what I've said. It's a little, well, voyeuristic, I suppose.

I risk a glance at his face. His smile is small, but genuine, and the darkness has lifted from his eyes completely. I take a deep, shaky breath, and risk telling him what I've wanted to tell him since the day he helped me move in.

"I know where my home is now, Max. It's… it's with you. When I'm with you, I feel… whole. That's why I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I never meant to; I'm just… I'm not very good at this. I've… I've never felt this way about someone before." My coffee is empty, and I lean over to toss it in the garbage can next to us so I can lean back into him and reach up to cup his cheek in my hand. I can't tell him I love him yet; I feel like that would be too much. I swallow and add, "I just need you to know how important you are to me, Max. I know that we haven't known each other for that long, but I can't imagine my life without you now."

He reaches across me with a long arm to throw away his own empty cup. When he pulls back, he curls that arm around me, holding me against him and pressing his lips to my hairline. "I'm glad," is all he can manage to say.

It's not that those words aren't enough. Anything is enough for me right now.

It's the way he says them. He sounds afraid. But of what? Me? I don't know. I don't want him to be afraid that I'll hurt him, but I know that all I can do is show him that I won't do it again. I can't expect him to just accept it because I say it.

He just holds me like that for a few minutes. I can feel his heart beating hard and fast in his chest, and he's trembling a little. I wish I could read his mind. What is he thinking? If I knew, maybe I could figure out the best way to move forward.

I'll just have to guess, and hope that I guess right.

Finally, he sits up a little. I tip my chin so I can gaze at his face. "We should go to the market," he decides nervously. "So that we're home before it gets dark."

I nod, standing up with him, still holding onto his arm. "You're right," is all I say in response, not wanting to push him too hard. "Let's go."

* * *

We're more relaxed after going to the market. Both of us had fun picking out ingredients and planning meals. Max is carrying our bags in one hand so I can keep clinging to his arm.

As we step off of the elevator, I wonder what's going to happen next. I know he'll need to check on August, but will he come back if I ask him to?

We stop in front of my door and he sets my bags down beside me. It seems like he wants to say something, but isn't sure where to start. I'm still holding onto his arm, and I reach out gently to take the other before stretching up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his cheek.

Max inhales deeply and his whole body tenses up. His hands slip to my elbows and he grips them tightly. I draw my lips away from his cheek, but stay on my toes.

I want to kiss his mouth, but I'm torn. Maybe it would help him open up a little. Maybe it's selfish of me. I can't decide.

But I can feel the heat radiating from his body, and I don't want him to go. So I tilt my head just enough so that my lips are almost brushing his, pressing forward slowly to give him time to say no if he wants to.

At the last minute, Max subtly moves his head to the side to avoid my lips. Though I can understand why he might be reluctant, I can't deny the hurt and disappointment that bloom in my stomach at the gesture.

I step back, fumbling in the pocket of my skirt for my keys and grabbing my grocery bags. "Max, I'm so sorry," I whisper frantically. "I'm…" He grabs the hand that I've pulled out of the pocket of my skirt and the words die on my lips.

"No, don't be sorry, Robin," he reassures me. When I look at him, I see that the darkness from before is back in his eyes; it's more intense than it was this morning.

What is he afraid of? Looking into his eyes right now, I can't believe that it's just me. There's something else holding him back.

"I'm an idiot," I blurt out, unable to help myself. There are about a million thoughts running through my head, and I'm having a hard time sorting them all out.

"That's not what I meant," Max insists. He's looking at me like he's in pain.

I feel tears start to well up in my eyes, and I know I have to get inside before I cry in front of him. I pull my hand away, turning and unlocking my door. I step inside, looking back at him one more time, cursing myself when I feel a single tear roll down my cheek. I know he sees it.

"I'm sorry, Max. I… I'll talk to you later." I can't wait for his response, so I shut the door and drop my bags.

Then I press my face into my hands to muffle my first sob as I lean against the wall and slowly slide down to the floor.


	9. Chapter Nine: Max

Chapter Nine: Max

 **Warnings: Anxiety. Emotional abuse. Language. Voyeurism.**

* * *

I linger outside Robin's door, one hand resting over my mouth, the other extended toward her doorknob.

I know I hurt her feelings. I could feel it in her body and see it on her face. Now I can hear her crying on the other side of the door, and all I want to do is comfort her.

I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to kiss her so badly I can't even put the feeling into words.

But I couldn't. I can't kiss her without telling her that I watched her.

I let her touch me more than was wise today because watching her assured me that she wants me. This is my fault. I gave her unrealistic expectations because I'm afraid that if I'm honest, she won't want me anymore.

There was a moment today when I thought that maybe she might understand. She talked about looking through windows at families, about being part of something just by watching. I know that feeling so well. But I don't know how to bring it up.

I just know if I kiss her, if I start something more serious between us without telling her, it will be tainted. And I don't know want it to be. I want it to be like her.

Bright.

Pure.

Beautiful.

The way it was when I first saw her. Before I had done anything wrong.

She said that I'm her home. That she can't imagine her life without me. Those revelations breathe life into my flayed soul. I never thought anyone would really say those things to me.

But I'm still stripped. There's only one way to fix my mistakes, and I'm terrified to do it.

I turn away from her door, wringing my hands together slowly and biting my lower lip. There are tears welling up in my eyes, and they start to spill down onto my cheeks when I hear August's disgusted sigh as I near my apartment. He must have been watching us.

I push past him, heading for my room, but he follows me. "She threw herself at you and you couldn't even follow through!" he berates me. "What kind of man are you? All you want to do is watch! You're revolting!"

I turn and face him for once. "Stop!" My voice is firm, but small. It's all I can muster. "I don't just want to watch, but you don't understand. You could never understand," I sob, crying harder, and he sneers at me.

"You're worthless. A coward." I look at him, wishing I could disagree.

"I know," I choke out, and then I walk into my room and shut the door. I slide down the wall to the floor and let myself cry.

* * *

When I finish crying, I collect myself and go take care of August, making sure he's eaten and taken his medicine. He's mercifully silent.

Once he's asleep, I change my clothes and decide to go into the walls again. I need to see her. I could knock on her door and ask to talk to her, hold her and tell her everything. But today has been too much, and I can't deal with that right now.

I need to be as close to her as I can. It's dangerous, but I have to risk it.

I move through the walls until I know I'm next to her bedroom, pressing my ear to the wood surface and listening for her. "Just go to bed," I hear her say to herself tiredly. I've caught her at just the right moment.

She walks into the bathroom. I hope I have enough time.

I slip out of the walls as quickly as I can without making any noise, getting on the floor and sliding smoothly under her bed. Only a few seconds later, she walks back into the room, flipping the lights off as she goes. I rest my fingertips lightly on the bottom of the mattress so I can feel what she's doing.

The room is dark, except for the faint moonlight that streams through the curtains. She slips between the covers; they flutter and shorten as she settles in. I'm so close to her right here. If I reached up over the side of the bed, I could touch her. I won't, of course. But knowing that I could makes me feel better.

She shifts restlessly in the bed every few minutes. It's like she can't get comfortable. I wish I could hold her and soothe her to sleep. She would have let me if I had only asked. But I'm too vulnerable.

I'm everything August says, aren't I?

I take a quiet, shaky breath as my eyes grow wet again. Even if I can tell her the truth, I'm not good enough for her. Even if she can accept me the way I am, she deserves so much more than I can give her.

What am I doing?

I jump slightly as the bed shakes; she must have sat up. For a moment, I panic. Did she hear me? What am I going to say if she realizes I'm here?

But she doesn't climb off of the bed. Instead, she sighs, and her sigh is full of tears. I bite my lip as she starts to talk to herself.

"You're so stupid," she whispers, sniffling. She starts rocking back and forth; the bed moves slightly every time she does. "Why would he want you? You're a mess, and he doesn't even know half of it. He watched you lose it in front of Jack and then cry for the rest of the day. He knows that you don't have any direction at all in your life. And you told him that ridiculous story about looking through windows. He probably thinks you're crazy. Of course he doesn't want you to kiss him. Of course."

She sobs, and the sound is muffled. Her head must be in her knees. She's crying harder now, and with every word, she gets harder and harder on her herself.

"And look at you compared to him. Fuck!" The harsh word surprises me again, and my hands twitch. "He's absolutely gorgeous. He could have any woman he wants. And you're you. Too heavy and not pretty enough. What were you even thinking?"

I feel her flop back down on the bed and curl up. She's still crying, but it's muffled again. I think she's got her face in her pillow.

I'm frozen under the bed, waiting for her to fall asleep. My head is spinning.

Is that really what she thinks?

That she's the one who's not good enough for me?

I know she's shy, but I thought that was because she's inexperienced. I know she's a little self-conscious about her body because of watching her the other night, but I didn't think she really believed that she isn't attractive.

She's finally asleep. I can tell because her breathing is even and she's stopped moving as much. I need to go while I can, so I slip out from under the bed and back into the walls. I avoid looking back at her, knowing that the temptation to crawl into the bed beside her and hold her comfortingly would be too great.

Once I'm back in my room, I sit in the center of the bed, my arms wrapped around my legs, my chin resting on my knees. I think carefully about everything she said.

It never occurred to me that she thought that she wasn't good enough. I know I don't know everything about her, but how bad could it be? Look at the wonderful person she became in spite of whatever she went through. She's sweet, kind, thoughtful, and intelligent. She had the courage to go to school and try to live a life she wanted, even when her childhood hadn't given her what she'd hoped. Maybe she isn't really perfect; I know that I think she is, but someone thinking you're perfect is different than actually being perfect.

But she's more than good enough.

She went out into the world while I stayed hidden, living a life that wasn't mine through these walls. And maybe I'm not good enough for her. Maybe everything August has said to me my whole life is true. I certainly feel like he's right sometimes.

But… maybe that doesn't matter. Maybe that's the point of loving someone. I can't imagine her saying anything that would make me turn away from her, that would make me not want her.

What if it's the same for her? What if, no matter what I revealed to her, she would still want me?

If I want her, I have to tell her. It's the only option. I can't pretend that I didn't watch her, and I don't want to have to hide anything from her.

August says I'm a coward.

What if I wasn't?

What if I tell her everything that might drive her away, and she still stays?

The thought is terrifying, but it's also liberating.

If she could accept me in spite of all my shortcomings, maybe I could be free.

I finally lay down, hugging my pillow to my chest. As I start to drift off to sleep, I promise myself that tomorrow, I will not be a coward.

I'll tell her everything, and then I'll really know where we stand.


	10. Chapter Ten: Robin

Chapter Ten: Robin

 **Warnings: Anxiety. Mention of emotional abuse. Mention of voyeurism.**

* * *

My sleep is fitful, and I don't really get up until the early afternoon, even though I was technically awake long before that.

I just can't stop thinking about Max.

I'm hurt that he didn't kiss me, but I know there must be a deeper reason why. I knew it before I'd even retreated into my apartment; I just couldn't fully process it. All of my doubts are still swirling around in my mind, but I know that if I want him, I have to tell him the truth. I have to be honest about my past; all of my insecurities stem from it, so he has to know if we even have a chance of being together.

And I have to make sure that he knows he can share his own fears with me without worrying that I'll judge him. He has to understand that no matter what he's keeping from me, I'll still want him.

These thoughts finally get me out of bed. I shower and dress and have coffee; I'm too nervous to eat. I'm trying to decide if I should risk going to his door, which might mean talking to August. I want to speak with him so badly, and I never did make plans for dinner with August like I promised. I could always use that as an excuse.

I've almost made up my mind when there's a soft knock at my door.

Unless August has decided to pay me a visit, there's only one person it could be.

I walk slowly to the door, taking a deep breath as I put my hand on the knob.

When I open it, he's standing there.

I give him what feels like a pained smile. I know that my eyes are rimmed with red after all the crying I did yesterday, and I must look tired as well. But he still lights up when he sees me.

"Max," I say carefully, trying to give him the distance he needs. He's more nervous than he's ever been around me before, but I can tell that it's a different kind of tension. Oddly, he's calmer, in a way. His hands are still, and he doesn't seem as distracted.

Before I can say anything else, he reaches for me and pulls me into his arms. I gasp in surprise. I hadn't expected him to touch me, but I melt into his embrace, burying my face in his chest and wrapping my arms tightly around him. I have to fight not to start crying again.

Max slips his hand into my hair, tipping my head back just enough so that he can look down at me. His face is a strange mixture of hope and sadness, and I cup his cheeks in my hands, trying to reassure him.

He closes his eyes for a moment, clearly savoring my touch. When he opens them again, he gives me a small smile. "I'm sorry about yesterday," he tells me. My eyes widen as he begins to tremble. "I wanted to kiss you, Robin. I did. More than I can ever tell you. I need you to understand that."

I nod, allowing myself to run my thumb over his lips. There are so many things I should say, but instead, I find myself begging. "So kiss me now," I breathe. His arms tighten around me, but he shakes his head gently.

"Not yet," he murmurs, stroking my cheekbone. "There are things I need to tell you first."

I bite my lower lip and my stomach turns anxiously, but I pull back and take his hands in mine, leading him into my apartment. He shuts the door behind us and I walk to the living room. I'm about to sit on the couch when he stops me.

"Not here," he stammers. "I have something to show you." I tilt my head at him curiously as he takes the lead, pulling me into my bedroom. He positions me in front of the wall that our two apartments share, the one that my bed is against.

"Max?" I ask uncertainly. "What are we doing?" I glance up at him over my shoulder, my breath catching in my throat as I see his face.

He looks terrified.

Before I can comfort him, he manages to ask, "Do you trust me?"

I can sense the significance of the question, so I answer seriously. "Of course I trust you, Max." He seems happy with my answer, but still apprehensive.

"I've never told anyone what I'm about to tell you," he confesses. "And I'm scared that after I tell you, you won't want me anymore."

I turn to face him, putting my arms around his neck and slipping my fingers into his hair. "Max," I whisper, hoping he can hear the gravity in my voice. "I can't imagine anything you could say that would make me not want you."

He smiles sadly, leaning down to press his forehead against mine and framing my face with his large hands. "I can," he replies softly. He's so close that I can see the tears pool in the corners of his eyes. "But I want you so much, Robin. I have to be honest."

"I want to be honest too, Max," I reply, my own eyes filling with tears. "Please don't be afraid."

He hangs his head as he steps back, rotating me so I'm facing the wall again. My heart starts pounding faster as he reaches over my shoulder and presses his palm firmly against the wall. What is he doing?

I'm surprised when the wall swings open in front of me, revealing a dark space behind it. It's big enough to walk into, and Max steps in front of me now, holding my hand tightly. His gaze is dark, and it begs me to follow him.

So I do.

Once we're inside the wall, I look around. I can see exposed pipes and the backs of electrical outlets. Everything is dusty. Max seems surprised that I haven't let go of his hand, and I see his shoulders relax a bit when I ask, "Where are we? Some kind of maintenance passage?"

"Yes," he answers, his voice just a little more confident. "They're… odd because of when this place was built. I don't use them often." His brow furrows and he stops speaking.

I step closer to him. "Is this what you were worried about, Max? That I would be freaked out that these are here? It's all right. It doesn't bother me."

"It's not just that," he finally says, squeezing my hand in his. "Be careful back here, Robin," he tells me. "You could get lost or stuck. Just… stay close to me, no matter what happens." I put my arm around his waist in response, leaning my head against his chest. After a moment, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and starts to slowly walk, his hand still in mine.

"I used to hide in these walls when I was a kid," Max explains, guiding me down the passage. I'm already not sure where we are; I can see what he means about getting lost. "I got to know them pretty well." We come to a dead end. "This leads into my apartment." He opens it and we step into a small, sparse bedroom. I thought it would be more lived in since he's been here for so long.

"Yours?" I ask. He nods. I blush; I've imagined being in his bedroom before, though not quite like this.

Max pauses and glances at me; I squeeze his hand, letting him know that everything's all right. He leads me out into the living room of his apartment. "August is asleep," he says quietly. "Come on."

The room is clearly set up with August in mind. The furniture is mismatched, and a lot of it is antique, which makes the space feel almost like a shrine. As we reach a large dresser sitting by the front door, I pause, studying it.

There are dried flowers in a vase, and candles sitting on the surface that have clearly been used a lot. Black and white photos in old frames decorate the surface; I see one of a man, a woman, and a little boy. "Are these your parents?" I ask Max carefully.

"Yes," he breathes, nodding. "I'll… I'll tell you about them in a minute." We move out into the hallway and he takes me past my own door to another spot on the wall. He swings it inward and leads me inside.

"This one goes past your bathroom and ends in your kitchen," he informs me. "There's a crawl space that leads to a storage area at the front of the building too, but no one's used it in years, so don't go in there."

"Okay," I agree. Max stops again; we're at a slight curve in the passage. He pulls me in front of him, pressing his chest to my back and looping one of his long arms around my shoulders. He bends his head so his lips are at my ear.

"Please don't be upset," he pleads, putting his hand on my hip and guiding me around the curve.

I'm about to tell him that he doesn't have to be worried, but the words die in my throat as I realize that I'm standing in front of a two-way mirror.

A two-way mirror that looks into my bathroom.

I gasp and lean back into Max. He's shaking hard, though I can't imagine why; I'm momentarily too shocked to think it through. But I feel like I should say something, so I blurt out, "Why is it…?" I can't even finish the sentence, but I reach out and touch the mirror with my fingertips.

"It's been that way as long as I can remember," Max answers hoarsely. He's holding onto me tightly, like he's afraid I'm going to run away. "Robin, I… I have so much to say. I don't know where to start."

I turn in his arms, standing on my tiptoes so I can kiss his cheek as he hugs me desperately. "Start at the beginning, Max," I advise him. "And remember that I'm not going anywhere."

Silence surrounds us for a moment as he musters up the courage to speak. I slip my hands up to his face, trying to soothe him, but he only gets tenser. I bite down hard on my lip to keep myself from crying as tears start to spill down his cheeks.

"It's not okay," he sobs. "That's the whole problem, Robin. It's never been okay. Not until you. And I've ruined that too." I shake my head at him adamantly, but I can tell he's not convinced.

He looks so conflicted; I'm trying to think of something I can say to make him feel better. Before I can come up with anything, he abruptly says, "When I was seven, my parents died." I inhale sharply at the revelation, but I stay silent. I feel like if I interrupt him, he might lose his momentum.

"They didn't just die," he continues. "My father… killed my mother, and then he killed himself. I was there. I saw the whole thing. He thought… he thought she was unfaithful to him. I don't know if she was. After that, August raised me. He was my mother's father. He worshipped her. To him, she was perfect, and my father was the man who ruined her life." He takes a deep, shuddering breath, tears streaming down his face. I can feel my heart breaking into a million pieces.

"All my life, August has told me that I'm just like my father. He says I'm jealous, perverted, weak, and a coward, and that no one will ever love me because of it. And he's right," he wails, pushing away from me. He turns, gripping a board that's been nailed to the slats of the exposed wall, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. "He's right," he repeats mournfully. "I'm not good enough."

I jump in shock as Max grits his teeth and screams, slamming his face into the board before turning his head and biting into his arm. I'm moving forward before I've even decided to do it, dragging him away from the wall and back into my arms. "Max, stop! You'll hurt yourself!" He's taller, heavier, and stronger than me, and he struggles, causing us both to fall to the floor. I sit down hard, not letting go of him, wrapping my arms tightly around his shoulders and pressing my face into his neck. "Shh, Max. Shh. It's all right. You're all right."

He's rocking back and forth, and he leans forward, putting his arms around his knees and resting his forehead on them. I hold him, trying to think of something I can say that will be comforting.

I can't imagine what he's been through. Watching his father kill his mother? And then hearing August say those things to him? No wonder he's withdrawn and insecure. It sounds like no one's ever tried to get him any help. He's been all alone.

"Max," I whisper, pressing gentle kisses to his neck, "Max, August is not right. He's not right at all. You are good enough. You're more than good enough. You're not any of those things he said. You've shown me that. You helped me find an apartment, even though I know you were nervous talking to me. You stood up for me when I was in trouble with Jack. Those were strong, brave things to do, Max." I don't even know what to say about him being jealous and perverted. He didn't confront Jack because he was jealous; he did it because he saw that I needed help. And he's never been anything but respectful around me. He wouldn't even kiss me when I begged him to. He spent the night in my bed and didn't make a single move.

He raises his head and looks at me; he's still crying. "Max, what's wrong?" I ask desperately. "I'm still here, Max. I'm not going anywhere; I told you that."

He turns and puts his hand on my face. His fingers linger there, and for whatever reason, I feel like he thinks he's touching me for the last time. I put my hand over his, keeping it there. "I haven't told you the worst part," he murmurs sadly.

"So tell me now," I whisper. "Tell me everything, Max. Just… get it all out, and then let me tell you what I think." The only thing I want in this moment is to take all of his pain away.

He's shaking again, and he nods in the direction of the mirror. "When I was a kid, and I hid back here, I'd… watch people. There are, um, peepholes and windows all through these passages. I don't know if they were here before, or if my father made them; August's never told me. It… was like what you said to me about watching families through windows. When I watched people, I felt like I had a different life. A better life. Sometimes it was all that kept me going."

I stroke my fingers gently through his hair, turning my head and softly kissing his palm. "I understand that completely, Max," I assure him, and then something dawns on me. "Is that why August says you're… jealous and perverted?" I cringe at having to use the words, but he seems to understand.

He nods. "He says that watching is wrong. I know he's right. It's… not fair to watch without asking. But I don't know how you ask someone something like that. And even if you could, wouldn't it change everything? If someone knew you were watching, they would act different. It wouldn't be the same."

"I think that's true," I agree, hesitating before I add, "Is that what's wrong, Max? Is it easier for you to watch than to… be with someone? Because you don't feel like you're good enough? Because we could work on that, Max… if that's what you want. If that's what you need, it doesn't bother me."

He's staring at me. His eyes are wide, and once again, they're a curious combination of hurt and hope. "You'd… let me watch you?" he asks disbelievingly, swallowing hard.

I smile at him, kissing his palm again. "Well, of course I would," I reply, pressing my cheek against his hand. "I'd rather have you with me; I'm not going to lie about that. But if you need to slow down, Max, that's fine. I…" I blush a little, embarrassed. "I just thought you were shy. I didn't realize it was more than that."

I'm shocked when he bursts into tears again after hearing my response; I thought my answer would make him happy. I push my hand deeper into his hair and brush the other over his cheek, sitting up on my knees to put my face closer to his. "Max, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you, I… I thought that was what you wanted!"

He puts his arms around me, burying his face in my neck as he cries. Because of our position on the floor, the embrace is awkward, so I swing my leg over him and sit in his lap, holding him as close as I possibly can. He squeezes me tightly and I try to calm him down. "Max," I whisper urgently, resting my forehead against his and brushing our noses together. "Max, I'm sorry. Just… tell me what you need. Anything, Max. I'll do anything. Please!" I beg. I can't stand seeing him like this.

He shakes his head, clinging to me, and finally manages to choke out words. "You don't understand," he says, and he sounds so sad that I almost believe him. "I've already ruined it. It's too late."

"Max, look at me," I implore him, putting my hands on the sides of his face. He opens his eyes and I wipe tears from his cheeks. "I don't understand, Max. How did you ruin everything? You have to tell me so I can fix it."

He looks absolutely anguished. "You can't fix it, and neither can I. Robin, I… I already watched you. Without your permission. When you told me to leave the morning after I stayed with you, I had to see you, but I was too afraid to come back. So I watched. I stood behind this mirror and I watched you. I watched you take your clothes off, and while you were…" He stutters briefly, but then continues. "…while you were touching yourself in the bathtub. I listened to you say my name. And last night, I was underneath your bed. I heard the things you said about yourself, and that was the only reason I decided I could try and tell you everything. I'm not brave at all, and you can't forgive me for this. You shouldn't. I was a fool to think you ever could. You deserve more than I could ever give you. I'm so, so sorry."

For a moment, I'm so stunned I can't speak.

My brain is telling me that I should be angry with him for watching me without asking. That he's a stalker. That I should leave and run as fast as I can in the opposite direction. I push the thoughts aside angrily, hating that they're even there. They're horrible.

Because my heart knows the truth about him. He's a sweet, kind man who just needs someone to believe in him, to trust him. He's a little broken, but who isn't? I'm broken too.

And maybe, just maybe… two slightly broken people can put their pieces together and make something whole.

I flush, my cheeks turning bright red as I gaze into his stunning hazel eyes. "You… watched me in the bathtub… when I said your name? And you… heard all of those things I said about myself?" He nods, about to speak, but I put my fingers on his lips to stop him. "You saw and heard all of that… and you still want me?" I move my fingers aside, cupping his face in my hands once more as I wait for his answer.

"Of course I do," he reassures me. "You're the only person I've ever wanted. And I'll always want you, no matter what. I…" He takes a deep breath and his arms tighten around my waist. His voice is small and afraid, but he swallows hard and says, "Robin, I love you." I can tell that it takes all of his strength not to look away from my face. This is what he was afraid of, I realize. He thought that after he told me what he'd done, I could never feel the same way.

But my answering smile is so big that it hurts, but it makes him finally smile, so I don't care. "And I love you, Max," I tell him happily, struggling to put my words together in a way that makes sense. I fail spectacularly. "We can figure everything else out later," I finally decide, slightly flustered. "This is all that matters right now." I pull my sleeves down over my hands and carefully rub the rest of his tears away. "I love you, Max," I repeat, putting my arms around his neck. "I love you."

He smiles wider, bringing his hands up to my face. "I love you, Robin," he says reverently, his fingers stroking my cheekbones, his thumbs running over my lips. "I love you."

We just stare at each other for almost a full minute. Then we both move forward at the same time, and our lips finally meet.

Max makes a sound deep in his throat as we begin to kiss, and we shift as we try to hold each other closer. I curl one arm around his shoulders, sinking my other hand into his dark, messy curls. His thumbs move from the corners of my lips to trace down my jawline delicately, and I sigh against his mouth. I pull his head back by tugging on his hair and he gasps; it's a lovely, provocative sound, and all I want is to hear it again.

I tug again; Max gasps again, gripping my face tighter, his long fingers splayed out over my skin. I run my tongue over his lips and he shivers, running his tongue over my lips too. When our tongues finally tangle together, we both moan, staying locked together, tasting each other.

I could kiss him forever. It's better than I ever imagined it could be from a lifetime of reading about kisses in books and seeing them in movies. I'd always been afraid that a real kiss could never live up to those passionate kisses shared between people so deeply in love that nothing could tear them apart.

But this kiss is better than all of them put together. I can tell that Max is putting all of himself into this kiss, and I hope I'm giving all of myself back.

Max's fingers stroke down my neck and his thumbs caress the hollow of my throat. He's being so gentle, but every touch is incredibly intense. I feel cherished.

No one's ever made me feel cherished before.

Max slides his big, warm hands back up to my face, cupping my cheeks again and kissing my mouth softly several times before finally pulling back. My eyes flicker open and I can't help smiling as I see the ecstatic grin on his face.

"You love me." He says it like a revelation.

"I do," I confirm, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to each one of his dimples. Somehow, his smile gets wider, and I can't help kissing his mouth again. When I pull back, he leans up and kisses my forehead.

"And I love you," he whispers. "So much."

I nod happily, letting myself sag against him, putting my arms around his shoulders and pressing my face into his neck. The past few days have weighed on me so heavily, and now that I have some relief, I finally realize how tired and hungry I am. Max smooths a lock of hair over my ear and kisses my temple gently.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asks softly.

"I really can't remember," I tell him truthfully.

"Okay," he responds. "I'm going to take care of you, Robin. All right?"

"All right," I breathe, clinging to him. I don't ever want to let him go.

"I need to get cleaned up and check on August," he tells me. "You get cleaned up and comfortable, and then I'm going to come back and make you dinner. Okay?"

I raise my head to look at him worriedly. "Do you need me to come with you?" I ask. "I don't want him to say anything that will upset you, Max." He smiles at me radiantly and kisses both of my cheeks affectionately.

"Don't worry about me, Robin. I'll be fine. Worry about you." He stands up, putting his hands around my waist so he can lift me and set me on my feet. He puts his arm around my shoulders and guides me out of the walls and back to the hallway, walking me to my apartment door.

I stand there, staring up at him. Neither of us moves. Finally, I blush and look down at myself. "I'm all dusty," I point out.

Max smiles. "Me too." He pulls me into his arms again, curling his hand around the back of my head comfortingly. "Take a hot shower. I'm going to. And before you know it, I'll be back. I promise."

He steps back, rubbing my fingers in his before he lets go of my hand and turns to walk down the hallway. He slips his hands into his pockets and dips his head as he goes, and I know that he's smiling, even though I can't see his face.

"Max?" I call softly; he turns and looks at me sweetly, and I blush more deeply. "I'll always worry about you, you know. Because I love you."

He licks his lips and walks back over to me, cupping my chin in his fingers. Then he's kissing me again, holding me close as he softly moves his mouth against mine.

It works.

His kiss puts my broken pieces back together. When I'm in his arms, I feel whole.

"Come back fast," I beg him softly when he pulls away. He smiles at me and nods.

"I will."


	11. Chapter Eleven: Max

Chapter Eleven: Max

 **This chapter has been censored in order to abide by FFNet's guidelines. You can read the full version on AO3, Tumblr, and Wattpad.**

 **Warnings: Anxiety. Mention of emotional abuse.**

* * *

I look back at Robin's door before I open my own; she's still there, gazing after me and smiling. I grin at her and wave, gesturing for her to go inside. She blushes and bites her lower lip before slipping into her apartment.

I feel unbelievably light. I told her the truth, and she still wants me.

And she doesn't just want me.

She loves me.

I check in on August, who is ready for dinner. There are leftovers from the night before, and I heat some up for him, letting him know that I'll be taking a quick shower. I almost make it out of his room before he speaks.

"Are you going to see that girl again?" he asks incredulously.

Yesterday, the question would have bothered me, but today, I'm unflappable.

"Her name is Robin. And yes. I'm making her dinner."

He's thrown off by my calm answer, and he finally just huffs and says, "I know her name."

"I know you do," I reply coolly. "I'll come back for your dishes when I'm done."

* * *

After I've showered and changed, I take his dishes and make sure he's set up to read for a while before he goes to sleep. I can tell that he wants to say something to me, but, surprisingly, he doesn't.

"Do you have everything you need?" I inquire. I don't think I've forgotten anything, but I'm a bit distracted.

"Yes." He nods, so I stand.

"All right. I'll come back before it's time for you to go to bed."

I smile to myself before I add, "And then you can expect me to be gone for the rest of the night."

* * *

I've barely knocked on her door when she opens it, and I grin broadly, chuckling at her. She blushes deeply, but reaches forward and pulls me inside, throwing her arms around my neck and standing on her tiptoes so she can press her cheek against mine.

"I missed you," she whispers.

I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her tightly. "I missed you," I assure her, turning my head so I can kiss her.

She tips her head back to give me better access to her mouth. I make the kiss soft and slow, feeling her fingers slide into the damp hair at the base of my neck. I don't really know what I'm doing, but she seems to like it, and that's good enough for me. Finally, I pull back. She sighs in disappointment and I brush my nose over hers indulgently. "I'll kiss you more later," I tease. "I promise." She smiles sweetly and buries her face in my chest.

I shut and lock the door behind us as I hold her. It amazes me how different I feel with her, especially knowing that she loves me. It's like nothing can bother me. Even last night, I'd felt less anxious after deciding to speak with her. I hadn't heard the ringing in my ears or needed to click my keys. I know she's not a magic cure for all of my problems; I'll have to work hard to get better.

But for now, she's enough.

She pulls back, looking down at the bag over my arm. "What did you bring?"

It's a simple question, but I can't respond for a moment because I've finally gotten a good look at her.

She's wearing tiny fitted jean shorts and a soft gray top with pale pink knit sleeves. The top is low-cut, and it opens in a little V at the center of her chest. Her bra is peeking through the V; it's pale pink too, and made of some sort of shiny material. Her feet are bare. Her hair is loose.

She is absolutely stunning.

"Max? Are you all right?" Her voice breaks into my thoughts and I shake my head to clear it.

"You are so beautiful," I murmur, putting my hand on her face and running my thumb over the apple of her cheek. She's already blushing, but my compliment makes her blush more. I hold up the arm with the bag on it. "I brought ingredients for dinner."

"I have food you can use, Max. You didn't have to bring yours," she admonishes me. I lean down and kiss her forehead.

"I wanted to." I take her hand and lead her to the kitchen, setting the bag down and then turning to her. I smooth her hair over her ears, frowning briefly at the dark circles under her eyes. I trace them gently with my thumbs and she tries to hide a yawn from me unsuccessfully.

"You need to take a nap while I cook," I inform her. She immediately shakes her head.

"I want to stay with you," she protests, pouting as she yawns again immediately after speaking. I press my lips together to keep myself from laughing out loud.

"How about this?" I compromise, walking into the living room. She has large pillows arranged on the floor for sitting on since she doesn't have enough furniture to fill the space, and I move them so they're in front of the kitchen door. I turn, curling my arm around her waist and pulling her over to me. "Lay down, Robin," I request softly. "Please?"

"If it will make you happy, Max," she acquiesces, resting against me contentedly for a moment.

She lays down on her side facing the kitchen, getting comfortable on the pillows. I grab a blanket off the back of the couch and gently drape it over her, sitting beside her for a minute and bending down to kiss her lightly. "I'll be right here, okay?" I promise. She nods, obediently closing her eyes.

I work as quietly as I can in the kitchen, glancing at her over my shoulder after about five minutes has passed. She's asleep, and I smile. I want to take care of her.

Once everything is cooking and I have a few minutes, I pull the candles I brought out of the bottom of the bag and set them around the living room, lighting the wicks carefully with a book of matches I've got in my pocket. When I finish and go back into the kitchen, she's sitting up and staring at me. I hold out my arm and beckon her over with my head.

She tucks herself into my side, putting her chin on my chest and glancing up at me. "Can I help?" I kiss her forehead.

"It's almost done." I grab her hand and bring it to my lips. "You don't have to do a thing." When she tries to insist, I move her hand to my shoulder and lean down to silence her with my mouth. Whatever she was going to say is muffled as she stretches up on her toes to kiss me.

She tastes like mint toothpaste, sweet coffee, and roses. I lift her up onto the counter, standing between her legs and putting my hands on either side of her face to deepen the kiss. She clings to me, running her hands over my chest and up to my neck. When I pull away, she pouts at me just like she did before. I laugh and give her one more little kiss, trying not to stare down her shirt. The pale pink of her bra is beautiful against her skin, and every time she breathes, her breasts rise out of her top alluringly.

"Max?" she asks teasingly. "What are you looking at?" I turn bright red and step away, running my hand nervously through my hair.

"I'm sorry," I stammer. "I didn't mean to…" I trail off as she giggles, grabbing my shirt and tugging me back to her.

"I wore it so you would look, Max," she breathes, pulling me down to her so we can kiss again. When we part, she tells me, "It's all right."

I smile shyly at her, then start getting our plates ready.

She jumps down from the counter and goes to rearrange the pillows so that they're in the center of the floor; the candles that I've placed strategically around the living room form a circle around them. She sits down on one as I carry the plates over to her, handing her one before I sit down myself. She scoots as close to me as she can before starting to eat.

"You like old things," she observes, nodding at the candles. I smile.

"I suppose I do," I reply, blushing a little. "I'm not really one of the, uh, text message Twitter crowd. Technology seems to be about telling everybody your deep, dark secrets, and, uh, I don't know. I guess I think secrets should be secrets." I pause. "Maybe that's just because of my secrets."

She smiles and rests her head against my shoulder. "I'm glad you told me your secrets, Max," she confesses softly. "I… I think we understand each other, and that's nice." She hesitates and then asks, "That's why you wouldn't kiss me the other night? Because you hadn't told me the truth?"

My blush deepens and I look at her shyly. "Mostly." I pause, and then finally say, "I was also just… surprised… that… that you…"

She's beaming up at me; I think she enjoys my shyness. "That I what?" she prods gently.

I close my eyes for a moment, biting my lip before I open them again. "That you wanted to kiss me."

"Why wouldn't I, Max?" she wonders, her voice delicate and tender. I beam and she leans up to kiss the corner of my mouth soothingly. When she moves her head back to my shoulder, she says, "This dinner is really good."

"Thank you," I reply, flattered that she likes it. "I would have brought wine, but I didn't think either of us needed alcohol tonight," I point out a little nervously.

"I actually don't drink," she reveals. "I didn't say anything when August gave me the wine because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Alcoholism runs in my family, so I try to keep my distance." She gets quiet after mentioning her family, and I can feel her face get hot where it rests against me.

I look sideways at her, nudging her gently. "Are you all right, Robin?" I ask quietly. She nods uncertainly in response.

"I'll be okay. Talking about my family is just… hard. Most people don't know the truth about what happened when my parents got divorced. It…" She sighs in frustration. "The whole experience just messed me up, Max. I haven't even realized how much until recently. But it's nothing compared to what you went through."

We've both cleaned our plates already; I hadn't realized how hungry I was. I take hers and put them in the sink along with the rest of the dinner dishes, then come back to sit beside her and take her in my arms.

"Tell me about it anyway," I request softly, pressing gentle kisses to her hairline. "It's not a contest to decide who has it worse, Robin. I care about you and I want to know everything so I can help you move past it." She squeezes me tightly.

"Max, I… I'm just afraid that it I tell you all my problems, I'll burden you unfairly. I want to help you too, and putting more on your back isn't fair." She leans into me, pressing her face into my chest, and I rub her back soothingly.

"You said you were afraid that if I knew everything, I wouldn't want you. I was afraid of the same thing when I came to you earlier. You proved to me that I didn't have to be. Let me prove the same thing to you." I lift her into my lap and press our foreheads together so that I'm looking into her eyes.

She sniffles and nods uncertainly. "If you're sure," she tells me anxiously.

"I'm sure, Robin. Talk to me." I squeeze her tightly, trying to make her feel safe.

She takes a deep breath. When she speaks, her voice is low, and it trembles. I look at her reassuringly, rocking her back and forth a little.

"I told you that my parents were divorced, but I didn't tell you why," she starts hesitantly. "Max, my mother… cheated on my father. I didn't know that was why when it happened; it took me a few years to figure it out. My father finally told me when I was fourteen. He said it was a secret that I couldn't tell anyone. I still don't know why he told me. He was my favorite parent, and there was no custody battle or anything. Then my mother married the man she had the affair with. I signed their marriage certificate, and I've always felt guilty about it. I just… couldn't think of a way to say no without telling anyone what I knew."

I move my hand to her face, stroking her cheekbone gently. I know what it's like to have to keep secrets, and my heart breaks for her. No one should have put her through that pain.

The next thing she says surprises me, though I suppose it shouldn't by now. "I'm sorry if talking about this hurts you. What you told me about why your father killed your mother…"

I stop her, rubbing my thumb over her lips. "Shh, Robin. It's okay. Don't worry about me." She nods, taking another deep breath and kissing my thumb delicately.

"Before I knew the truth, I thought it was my fault," she continues. "When I asked my mother why my parents split up, she told me that sometimes people just stop loving each other. I wasn't old enough to understand what she meant. I thought that if you didn't do exactly what someone else wanted, they could just stop loving you. I spent so much time trying to make people love me by trying to be what they wanted that I lost myself, Max. I have such a hard time knowing what I want out of my life. That's why I've been doubting myself about school recently. I don't know if it's really what I want, or if I'm just still doing it because now it's what people expect of me."

I slide my hand up into her hair, turning my head just slightly so I can kiss her cheek. I understand the pressure of trying to be what someone wants you to be too. I press my lips together hard as I feel her start to cry against me.

"I just… I've been alone my whole life, Max. When I was a kid, my parents wouldn't talk to each other, so I had to talk for them; I looked after my brothers because no one else would have. It only stopped because I put my foot down when I was eighteen, and my brothers were finally old enough to take care of themselves." She stops to wipe tears from her eyes. "Once I moved here for school, I just sort of stopped talking to my family. I've never told them why; I'm too afraid to bring it up, and I'm not sure it would accomplish anything anyway. I just… avoid them."

She stops again, sniffling. "Max, I just… I've always taken care of everyone in my life, and I'm exhausted. I feel so selfish saying it, but I just want someone to take care of me for once. You've taken care of me more than anyone ever has in the past few days. When you helped me move and you stood up to Jack for me… I can't even tell you how much that meant to me. No one's ever done anything like that for me before."

Suddenly, she buries her head in my chest and starts to sob. Tears fill my own eyes as I gather her closer, pressing kisses to her temple. She clings to me desperately, like she's afraid I'm going to disappear.

"I'm just afraid, Max," she cries. "I'm in love with you, and I'm scared that all of my baggage is going to get under my skin and ruin it. I don't doubt your feelings; I don't want you to think that. I'm just…" She raises her head, tipping my face down to hers so she can look at me. "I'm worried that I'm too broken to love, Max. That I don't know how to accept it or how to give it back. I don't want you to waste your time on someone who can't give you what deserve." Before I can reply, she buries her face in my chest and starts sobbing again.

"Robin, please stop crying," I gasp, a few tears rolling down my own face. I slip my hand into her hair, rubbing her back with the other. "Please. I don't want you to be sad. I am in love with you, Robin, and your baggage doesn't scare me. I have mine too, and I know it will be hard for us to work through all of that, but we can do it together. I know we can. I don't think you're broken, but even if you are, just… let me put you back together. I…" I trail off. If I tell her that I don't deserve anything, it will make her sad. And I have to remember that I do deserve good things. I do.

"I think you're perfect," I finally say instead, tipping her head back and pressing a soft, gentle kiss to her lips.

"But I'm not, Max," she says tearfully. "I'm not perfect. What happens when you realize that?"

I smile and kiss her again. "I already know you're not really perfect, Robin," I assure her softly. "I just know that you're perfect for me." She looks at me, her eyes wide and shimmering. "I don't know what happens next, but I promise you that I will never stop loving you, and I will always take care of you. Please, believe me."

My words seem to affect her profoundly. She sits up on her knees so she's straddling my lap and nuzzles my cheek, wrapping both of her arms around my neck and putting her lips against my ear. "I believe you," she reassures me, holding me tight. Her mouth brushes my earlobe and then she pulls back, taking my face in her hands. "I'm sorry, Max. I… hope I haven't ruined our evening together by…" I put a finger over her lips to silence her.

"You haven't ruined it, Robin. I'm glad you told me everything. Now… please kiss me," I request.

The fierceness of her kiss catches me off guard, but I love it, and I kiss her back just as fiercely. She tangles her hands in my hair and pushes me down onto the pillows, tracing my lips with her tongue. I open for her, gasping as she plumbs the depths of my mouth, my hands running up and down her sides.

I've had the curves of her body pressed against me before, but this time is different. This time, I can tell from the urgency of her touch that she wants something very specific from me. I put my hands on the side of her face and lift her head so I can gaze up at her.

She lowers her eyelashes and bites her lip uncertainly. "I'm sorry. Is this too much?" she asks, sitting up and leaning back on her heels. I follow her, shaking my head.

"No, Robin, it's not," I answer, my voice husky. My hands are trembling as I touch her face. I don't want to leave her, even for a moment. "But I need to check on August one more time and make sure he's all right," I sigh reluctantly.

"Oh!" she exclaims softly. "Of course." She pauses and then takes my hands. "Do you need me to come with you, Max?"

I shake my head. "No, you don't need to do that. Stay here and I'll be back before you know it, all right?"

She nods and I stand. I'd like to kiss her one more time before I leave, but I know that if I do, I won't leave at all.

"Wait for me," I breathe, my stomach tightening as I think about what could happen when I return.

She smiles at me sweetly. "Always, Max."

* * *

I get August into bed, trying not to rush. I walk slowly back to Robin's apartment after, taking deep breaths.

I know what she wants. I want it too.

I just don't know what to do, and I want it to be perfect for her.

She hears me coming down the hallway; she opens the door and stands there waiting for me, smiling and wringing her hands together. Her eyes are still a little red from crying, but the tear tracks are gone; she must have washed her face.

I walk into her apartment without touching her, stopping in her hallway and turning to watch as she shuts and locks the door. I glance to the side, noticing that the kitchen and living room are dark. She's turned off all the lights and blown out the candles.

I'm trying to think of something to say that I haven't said already, but she moves too fast. She squeezes my bicep in one hand, standing on her tiptoes and putting her arm around my shoulders, and then she's kissing me.

I shake for a moment as I put my hands on her. Suddenly, I'm very aware that I don't really know where to put my hands when I kiss. They flutter at her waist; I move one to her back. As her hands migrate until one is cupping the back of my neck and the other is in my hair, I slide my fingers up her sides. Somehow, her kisses are both slow and urgent, like she's begging for more, but wants it to last.

Our hands move again; is that the right thing to do? I brush her neck with my fingers lightly, feeling her shudder as she presses her palm over my heart. Back to her sides. Up once more to her face, cupping her cheeks this time. Her breaths are small and delicate, though hurried; my heated gasping seems to fill the air around us; am I being too loud?

Then her fingers are slipping under the hem of the two t-shirts I'm wearing and she's dragging them up. I reach behind my back obediently to help her take them off; I know she's too short to be able to pull them over my head.

She doesn't stop kissing me. Her hands are on my bare skin; I feel like I'm on fire wherever she touches me. Her shirt lifts a little as I press my hand into the center of her back, reaching down and groping her rear with the other. She jumps just the tiniest bit and I squeeze, testing the firm, rounded flesh with my fingers.

I start to walk her toward her bedroom, finally lifting and carrying her. She clasps her arms tightly around my neck; as we move, I push the fabric of her shirt up too, and she lets go of me just long enough to help me pull it off without setting her down. I moan against her lips. Her skin is so soft against mine, and I can feel the taut little peaks of her nipples straining against the fabric of her bra so that they brush my chest; her hips are warm where they're resting against me.

I tumble onto the bed with her, afraid for a moment that I might be too heavy, but she just pulls me closer, kissing me excitedly. Her hands on my body are distracting, so I take them in mine and pin them gently on either side of her head; she gives a little cry and her back arches to press us closer together.

I linger at her mouth for a moment before moving down to kiss her neck. Emboldened by her reaction, I keep kissing down, pressing my lips to the generous swell of her breasts over the pale pink cups of her bra. I'm tempted to linger there, but I keep moving.

She tenses a little when I start to kiss her belly. "Max," she whispers, then gasps as I press hot, open-mouthed kisses all the way to her waist, dipping my nose into her belly button when I reach it. My lower lip drags over her skin as I reverse directions and move back up. She's saying my name again, and I press one more kiss to her skin, just beneath her shiny bra, and then settle back on top of her, lightly kissing her mouth.

"Are you all right, Robin?" I ask her gently. "Do you… want me to stop?" I bite my lip; I don't want this to end, but if she's uncomfortable, I'll do whatever she needs.

"No, Max, I don't want you to stop," she assures me. I let her slip her hands out of my grasp and run them through my hair before she rests them on my face. Her fingers stroke through my beard and I sigh happily, bending my arms around her head in an arc to surround her and then carefully resting all of my weight on her body.

She leans up just enough to kiss me softly, shifting underneath me so that her legs are open and I'm resting between them. I gasp as my hips fit neatly against hers; I try to pull away a little, but she squeezes her thighs together, holding me in place. She looks up at me and smiles sweetly. "Are you all right, Max?" she asks. I bite my lip again; I can't help squirming against her, but I don't know how to tell her that the problem is that I'm too excited.

"I just want to do this right," I finally say. "I want it to be perfect for you." She kisses my cheek and beams up at me.

"I want it to be perfect for you," she replies.

"It will be perfect for me," I answer bashfully, my cheeks flushing as I add, "because I'm with you." Before I can say more, she's kissing me again, clearly pleased with my words.

"Then just tell me what you need. Please, Max," she implores me, kissing my beard all over. I shiver with pleasure.

"All right," I agree, capturing her lips with mine as they move over my face. "As long as you tell me what you need too."

* * *

She collapses on my chest once we've both finished, and for a moment, neither of us can move. We just hold each other.

When she shivers, I finally stir. I sit up with her in my arms and she whimpers, her body limp and languid against mine. I reach over, pulling the covers on one side of the bed down so I can slip her gently between them; then I stand, tugging the rest down too. She scoots into the center of the bed and holds out her arms for me. I shut off the lights and join her, arranging the blankets around us and drawing her into my embrace.

I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips, holding her against me tightly. She slips her hands into my hair again, her mouth lingering against mine; we both sigh happily. She chuckles, opening her eyes and rubbing my nose gently with hers. Her eyes flick upward. "Your hair is messy," she says; her smile is radiant.

"So is yours," I tease, still rubbing our noses together. I bite my lip, looking down at her bashfully. She raises her eyebrows questioningly, and I shyly ask, "You liked it?" I know that she did; I just want to hear her say it.

She blushes as she smiles up at me. "It wasn't obvious?" she answers just as shyly. "I thought I might have been too loud or too excited."

"You were wonderful," I assure her, running one hand up and down her arm. My eyes well up with tears as I continue, "Thank you so much, Robin. I never thought I'd feel anything like this." She gazes into my eyes, stroking my hair gently and comfortingly. "I love you. So much. I…" I take a deep, shaky breath before I can say, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

She tears up too. I smooth my hand through her hair as she quietly tells me, "It was the best thing I've ever felt, Max. Thank you for making it so comfortable for me." She leans up and kisses me briefly. "I love you, Max. I'm not going anywhere."

She yawns; after, she starts to apologize, but I hush her by kissing her again. "It's been a long few days," I soothe her. "You need to rest. Come here." I turn onto my back and let her put her head on my chest. I press my lips to her forehead as she snuggles into me, one of her hands curled around the back of my neck and the other resting over my heart.

"I love you, Max," she murmurs. I smile and give her forehead another little kiss.

"I love you, Robin. Sleep now."

It's not even another minute before she's asleep against me. I stare at her until my own eyelids get heavy, and then I concentrate on the way she feels in my arms until I fall asleep myself.


	12. Chapter Twelve: Robin

Chapter Twelve: Robin

 **This chapter has been censored in order to abide by FFNet's guidelines. You can read the full version on AO3, Tumblr, and Wattpad.**

 **Warnings: Emotional abuse. Mention of voyeurism. Mild physical abuse.**

* * *

I wake slowly. Sunlight is streaming through the windows, warming my skin. My back is facing Max's chest as he spoons me, his cheek is resting on mine, and my head reclines comfortably on his shoulder. His arm is draped over my hip, and his hand is cupping me between my legs. I sigh, rolling my hips forward and then back, feeling his erection push against my bottom.

"Good morning," Max rumbles teasingly, his voice deep and husky in my ear. I giggle, rolling over so I'm looking up at him.

"Good morning," I echo, framing his face with my hands and bringing his lips down to mine.

We kiss slowly, lazily, like we have all the time in the world. I smile against his mouth as I realize that we do. He smiles too, lifting his head and brushing my nose with his. As he strokes my cheekbone gently with his thumb, he asks, "What are you thinking?"

I squirm a little, biting my lip as I look up at him. "Can I tell you after I go to the bathroom?" I wonder sheepishly. He laughs and releases me, letting me get up. Before I go, I lean over and kiss him quickly. "Wait right here for me, okay?" I whisper. He nods, grinning at me happily.

I skip to the bathroom, grabbing my brush and running it through my hair as I attend to more basic needs. As I put it back, I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror and stop for a moment, studying my body.

Do I look different? That's just one of those clichés, right? That you change after having sex for the first time?

As I run my hands through my hair, I decide that, if nothing else, I look happy.

I haven't looked happy in a long time.

I walk slowly back to the bedroom, biting my lower lip as I see Max reclining on his side in the bed, his cheek propped up on his hand. "Hey," he says, raising his eyebrows playfully.

He looks happy too.

He holds his free hand out to me and I take it, letting him pull me back onto the bed and into his arms. "Hey," I reply, kissing the tip of his nose as he rolls me underneath him. I gasp as I feel his hard length dig into my thigh. I reach my hand between us and start stroking him, but he grabs my wrist and pins it to the bed beside my head. I pout up at him and he leans down, nipping at my lips.

"You never told me what you were thinking about," he chides. His warm hazel eyes are sparkling as he leans down to draw my lower lip into his mouth.

I squirm underneath him, whimpering. Finally, I manage to breathe, "I can't tell you if you're doing that." He tilts his head curiously and pulls back, gazing at me expectantly.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. He smooths a hand through my hair soothingly, making sure to stay still on top of me. I put my free hand on his face, tracing his lips with my thumb. "I was thinking," I start, "that we have all the time in the world to get to know each other."

Max beams down at me. "We do," he agrees. "Where would you like to start?"

I blush and arch my body, my breasts pressing against his chest. "I want you again, Max," I confess. "Can we start there?"

He nods, giving me a light, brief kiss. "Yes, Robin," he purrs. I try to move my hand again, but he stops me. "None of that," he admonishes. "Let me make up for not giving you enough pleasure last night."

"Max," I protest, "what are you talking about? I finished twice, just like you did."

"Exactly," he points out. "For every time I finish, I think you should finish at least twice."

My heart pounds in my chest and I get a little lightheaded just thinking about the possibility. "Is there a rule I don't know about?" I inquire breathlessly. "Who decided that?"

Max begins kissing me eagerly, finally letting me move my hands. I sink them into his thick, dark hair, kissing him back feverishly, loving the way his beard feels against my skin. He kisses his way from my mouth to my jaw to my ear and finally pants, "I did."

* * *

Later, I stroke my fingertips over his back, drawing circles on his skin. I'm shaking underneath him because of how wonderful I feel; I hope he feels the same.

"Your ratio was off," I observe lazily. "You only finished once. I finished four times."

He chuckles. "I owed you two for last night," he murmurs, kissing my neck. For the most part, he's relaxed, but there's a curious tension about him in this moment that I can't quite place.

"Max, are you all right?" I whisper. I feel him smile against me, and he lifts his head, turning mine so he can give me a sweet, soft kiss on the lips. I laugh lightly. "Is that a yes?"

He nods. "Yes, Robin. I am… better than all right. Thank you." He's silent for a moment as he brushes my chin with his nose.

"What is it, Max?" I ask. "You can tell me."

He sighs. "I just… um…" His brow furrows as he thinks, and I slide down a little bit so I can stare into his eyes. He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear and continues. "What happens now?" he questions shyly.

"Right now?" I tease. "Well, I'll have to lay here for a few more minutes before I can get up, and then I thought I'd make you breakfast." His cheeks flush a little and I give him another quick kiss. "That's not what you mean, I know," I admit.

"I'm just not sure, and I… want to give you what you want," he clarifies. He's nervous, I assume because of what he said last night.

"I wasn't clear enough last night, was I? I'm sorry." I run my fingers through his hair. "Did you mean it?" I wonder bashfully, stalling. "When you said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me?"

He doesn't even pause before he answers. "Of course I did. I love you, Robin."

"I love you, Max." I beam at him. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you too. So I think… we should figure out what we want that life to look like." I take a deep, shaky breath, afraid of what I'm going to say next. "I… I'd like to quit school, Max. I don't know what I want to do instead, but I need time to figure it out. I have some money saved up, so I'll still be able to pay you for the apartment for a few months, and hopefully that will be enough time."

"Don't worry about paying me," Max retorts. "I want to take care of you, and I have some money saved up too."

"Max," I protest. "I'm your only tenant."

"That's why this week's discount deal is the in love with the landlord special," he jokes, leaning forward and kissing me playfully. I laugh against his mouth.

"Does that stack with the discount I know you already gave me?" I joke back. He blushes shyly.

"You knew?" he asks sheepishly.

"Of course I did, Max. I told you when I first came here that this place had to be worth more. The only reason I didn't argue was because the landlord was so cute that I couldn't resist." I kiss the tip of his nose and he smiles. I pause thoughtfully. "Why did you give me the discount, Max?"

He smiles slowly, rubbing my hair between his fingers. He hesitates for a moment, and I touch his face gently as I realize that there are tears in his eyes. "I'm okay," he swears, continuing to touch my hair and face until he eventually says, "I gave you the discount because when I heard your voice, the world made sense for the first time. You were so… bright. Pure. Beautiful. And you weren't even trying. It's just who you are. I… I thought…" I wipe his tears away as they start to fall. "I thought that someone like you could save me. Could make my life… something really worth living. Then you talked to me and I was even more convinced."

I blink at him curiously. "You… decided you wanted me before we even talked?"

Max nods. "I saw you across the lobby and watched you put your flier up. I went to see what it said. When I realized that you were looking for an apartment, I decided to give you this one for the lower price. It was just chance that you ran into me before you left." He sighs, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me. The kiss is soft and filled with desire.

When he pulls back, he presses his forehead against mine and adds, "You… needed me. No one's ever needed me before, Robin. Then you loved the apartment and the building so much; you made me feel proud of my life for once. I just… wanted more. So I waited for you to show up with your things on the day you moved in. I was so surprised when I didn't even have to try to be around you; you just wanted me there. And you were nice to August, who usually rubs people the wrong way. It took everything I had to leave you alone that first night you were here."

Now I'm the one crying. "You say the most beautiful things, Max. I…" He puts his thumbs on my lips to keep me from talking.

"Don't say you don't deserve them, because you do," he declares. "You are… everything to me. The sun, the moon, the stars, the universe exploding out into everything that's ever existed. That's what you are to me, Robin. I love you more anything, and I would do anything for you. So let me take care of you now. Let me make everything better if I can."

I bury my face in his chest, tears streaming down my cheeks. He holds me gently, kissing the top of my head comfortingly. "I love you, Max," I manage to sob, the words muffled against his skin. "I want to make your life better too."

"You already have, Robin. You already have."

* * *

Once I'm done crying, we get out of bed and get dressed. I try to make breakfast for Max by myself, but he insists on helping me. We sit on the pillows in the living room again, but this time I sit in his lap and we feed each other off of one plate. It feels so silly, but so good. When we're finished, Max tells me he needs to check on August.

"Okay," I agree, looking at him carefully. So far he's refused my help with August, but I'm worried about the effect taking care of his grandfather is having on Max. I take a deep breath and speak my mind.

"Max, I… I wanted to ask you if you had thought about putting August in a home," I start, biting my lip nervously. "A place where someone could take care of him, and where maybe he could have some friends." I stop, unsure if I should continue.

Max runs a hand through my hair before leaning down to kiss my forehead. "I know that taking care of him means I have less time to spend with you," he ventures. I pull back just enough to look up at him.

"Max, it's not that I'm bothered by you taking care of him. I think you know that," I explain gently. "I'm worried about you. I'm worried that the things he says to you are hurting you. Max, I don't want you to hurt."

He gives me a small smile. "I know you don't," he soothes me, stroking my cheek. "I just… I don't know if I could do that to him, Robin. I know I probably shouldn't feel that way about it, but…"

"It's all right," I tell him. "Max, it's a big decision, and it's not mine to make. It's yours and his. I just… I want you to be all right." He rests his forehead against mine and nods, cupping my chin in his fingers and then giving me a sweet, soft kiss. He seems torn between making me happy and what he thinks of as his obligation.

I put my arms around his neck and kiss him back. "What if… you and I make dinner for August tonight? I promised him I would come by sometime, and... he should get to know me, Max. Whatever ends up happening, I'm going to be a part of your life, and he's a part of it too."

Max looks apprehensive, but finally slowly nods his head. "I'm nervous, but… okay."

"Don't be nervous, Max," I soothe him. "Everything will be fine." I take a deep breath and press on. "And… maybe it will be easier with something to look forward to. I…" I feel myself blush deeply as I look up at him.

He smiles at me reassuringly. "What is it, Robin?"

I put my face in his neck. I don't know why asking him certain things still makes me feel so shy. He nuzzles the side of my face encouragingly, and I murmur, "Would you like to leave some of your things here… or… all of them? I was hoping that… after last night… you would want to stay here with me… every night."

His arms tighten around me and he tips my head back; his smile is impossibly big. "Robin Ballard," he teases playfully. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"Only if you want to," I breathe nervously. "I…" He cuts me off by kissing me again, standing with me. I hold onto him tightly, wrapping my legs around his waist as he cups my bottom. "Max," I mumble, still kissing him. "I'm too heavy for you to hold me up like this for long."

He chuckles. "No, you're not. Just right, remember?" He carries me to the front door, kissing me the entire way, and then gently sets me down. I smile up at him happily and he smiles back.

"Get ready and come to the apartment. I'll be ready in time to let you in. And, after we have dinner and I get August into bed, I will start bringing my things over. Because I would love to live with you. Having my own space separate from August… would be a nice start to a new life." He blushes and kisses me one more time before opening the door. "I'll see you soon," he promises. "I love you, Robin."

I grab the front of his shirt and pull him down to give him one last kiss. "I love you, Max."

* * *

I spend a little more time than I intended getting ready. I know I've already met August, but I want to make a good impression.

I finally decide on a simple but attractive dress that's white with cherries printed all over it. The dress is demure, though it is sleeveless; a wide red band forms the high neckline, then twists over my shoulders and around the back of my neck to hold it up. I tie the red sash around my waist into an off-center bow and slip on my red flats, checking my bun one more time. I'm not wearing any jewelry or makeup besides lip gloss, which is the way I prefer it.

I take a deep breath as I step out into the hallway and walk slowly to Max's door. I smooth my skirt nervously before I knock.

When Max answers, his mouth is open to say something, but when he sees me, he freezes. I smile giddily and step forward, putting one arm around his neck and gently nudging his chin up with two fingers to shut his mouth. "Does that mean I look pretty?" I tease. He blushes, staring at me shyly and biting his lower lip.

"Not just pretty," he clarifies. "Gorgeous. I mean…" He swallows and strokes my cheekbone with his thumb. "Wow." I pluck at one of the buttons on his shirt and gaze up at him playfully. He's wearing the same outfit he wore when we went to the art opening.

"And you're very handsome," I reply. "Thank you, Max." I rise up onto my tiptoes and kiss his cheek, undoing the button my fingers are on and sliding my hand inside his shirt. He takes a shaky breath and turns his head so that our lips meet.

I wasn't sure how affectionate he would want to be around August, who is sitting in the living room behind us. I forget my worries about that as he kisses me. He's gentle and sweet, and when he finally pulls back, he smiles at me, rubbing his nose over mine before I sink back down to the floor. "You're irresistible," he whispers. "How am I supposed to keep my hands off of you?"

"Maybe if you're good and behave appropriately during dinner, I'll give you a reward later. How about that?" He chuckles, putting his arm around my shoulders and guiding me inside. "Grandfather," he says, and suddenly his voice is tight. I put my arm around his waist and rest my fingers on his chest comfortingly. "You remember Robin," he introduces me. "Robin, you remember August."

I wave as we come to a stop in front of August. "Hello, August," I chirp brightly. "It's so good to see you again."

He's not as polite as he was the first day I visited him. He keeps his hands folded in his lap and gazes at me coldly. I don't let my face falter. I'm trying to think of something to say next when a timer goes off in the kitchen.

"Robin, could you help me for a minute, please?" Max asks. I smile at him gratefully and nod, following him into the kitchen. He looks at me worriedly, putting his hand on the small of my back, and I lean up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I'm okay, Max," I assure him. He nods uncertainly.

For the next few minutes, we're occupied with getting the rest of dinner ready and setting the table. Max helps August to his seat; I sit on the opposite side of the table close to Max. August eats for a moment, and I consider trying to start a conversation, but before I can decide on a topic, he looks directly at me and decisively states, "You're quite taken with my grandson." His voice is laced with disapproval, and I feel my stomach flip anxiously. Max's hand is resting on the table, and I set my fork down and take it in mine before answering. Max is completely tense; when he looks sideways at me, his lips are pressed together.

I look August straight in the eye and smile. "I love your grandson, August," I inform him. My voice is small, but firm. "He's a very special man." I turn my head and look at Max as I say my next words. "He's strong, brave, kind, and generous. I don't think a woman could ask for more. I certainly can't."

Max squeezes my hand and smiles at me, his eyes shining. I squeeze his hand too and turn my face back to August. He doesn't reply, though his gaze narrows. Finally, he continues eating.

He's silent for the rest of the meal. When we're finished, Max says, "I need to get your medicine ready, Grandfather." He rubs his fingers over the strip of bare skin between the back of my dress and my neck. "Wait here," he tells me. "I'll take care of the dishes when I get back."

"Let me get them started," I protest, standing and putting my hand on his bicep. "You made dinner."

Max stares at me for a minute, then bends and presses his lips to my cheek. "If you insist. I can't say no to you."

"I'll remember that for later." He smiles again and I start to gather up the dishes from the table.

I'm standing at the sink when August steps up beside me, a glass in his hand. "You missed one, dear," he tells me, setting it on the counter.

I force myself to smile at him again; the things I know about him and the way he's acting are wearing me down faster than I anticipated. "Thank you, August," I respond carefully. I go back to washing the dishes when he suddenly speaks.

"He watches you, you know. Through the walls. That's what he likes. It's sickening."

My first reaction is anger. He has no right to share Max's secrets, and he's the only reason Max has these secrets at all. I don't want to argue with him, though. Not like that.

I shut off the water and dry my hands before I turn to face him, crossing my arms defensively over my chest. I look at August; he glares back at me defiantly. I take a deep breath and make sure my voice is calm before I speak.

"August," I start slowly. "I don't know what your intentions are, but you're not saying anything I don't already know. Max told me everything." His eyes get wide as I continue, leaning forward just a little to make my next point. "Everything. Do you understand me?"

He dodges the question. "You don't care?" he asks incredulously. "It doesn't bother you?"

"No, it doesn't," I clarify. "And stop trying to make it bother me. I love Max, August. I'm not going anywhere."

August looks at me, and the look in his eyes is different this time. It takes everything I have to not look away. I'm waiting for him to say something. When he does, his voice is filled with revulsion.

"You're just as disgusting as he is."

I'm about to protest, but before I can, he slaps me across the face.

No one's ever hit me before.

My hand flies up automatically to cup my cheek. It's not that the slap hurt; it wasn't hard enough to hurt.

It's just that I suddenly realize that if August is willing to slap me, a person he's only known for a few days, he must have no problem at all slapping the grandson that he's raised for practically his whole life.

Maybe he's even done worse.

My eyes fill with tears; August doesn't seem affected. They start to stream down my cheeks as I manage to gasp out, "How many times have you done that to him?" When he doesn't react, I repeat the question, my voice louder and angrier. "How many times have you done that to Max?"

This time, he doesn't get the chance to answer me because suddenly, Max is there between us. He's facing August, and when he speaks, I can tell that he's trying not to cry. He's also angry; I remember his voice sounding like that on the day Jack grabbed me. I put my hands on his arms and press my body against his back to calm him.

He shakes in my grasp as he softly says, "No. No. Not her." August starts to object, but Max cuts him off. I can tell by August's quick intake of breath that he's shocked. "Slap me around all you want," he continues; now he is crying, but his voice is louder, stronger. "But you do not touch her. Ever. I may have never stood up to you for myself, but I will stand up for her every time. Now go to your room. I'll give you your medicine and then I'm leaving for the night."

August obeys; I can tell Max is surprised. He spins around and takes my face between his hands and I throw my arms around him, holding him tight. He presses our foreheads together, tears streaming down his face. "Did he hurt you?" he asks fiercely, his mouth hovering over mine.

I shake my head. "Not the way you mean, Max," I answer quietly. I cling to him tightly as he gives me a brief kiss. He's trembling, and I reach up to touch his hair. "Max…" I whisper, my voice filled with pain, "how often does he hit you?"

Max sighs, cradling me against his chest. "Don't worry about me, Robin. Worry about you."

I shake my head again. "Do you remember what I told you, Max? I'll always worry about you, because I love you."

"I love you," he replies, his shaking slowly subsiding. "You're the only thing that's keeping me going right now." He takes a deep breath. "I want you to go back to your apartment and wait for me. I'll give August his medicine and then I'll come to you."

"No, Max," I insist softly. "No. No more pushing me away from the bad things. Let me help you. Please."

He steps back enough to wipe my tears away. "I just want to protect you from the bad things," he murmurs. "I don't want you to hurt, Robin."

I hold his hands to my face and kiss his palms. "Oh, Max. I know. It's just that… sometimes you can't protect people from the bad things. And if that's the case, I'd rather help you face them."

He nods slowly. "Okay. Come on."

Max takes my hand, leading me to August's room. I stand in the doorway while he wordlessly gives August his medicine. When he's finished, he walks back over to me, putting his arm protectively around my shoulders. "Let's go," he urges quietly, kissing my temple.

As we start to leave, August can't help making one last comment. "It'll never work, you know. Two perverted people like you." Max's fist clenches; I lean against him, my arm around his waist, my hand on his chest. I look up at him, briefly reaching up to touch his face.

"I love you," I remind him quietly. He nods and we leave without saying anything.

* * *

Back in my apartment, we both slip our shoes off; I let my hair down. As I lock the door, Max starts to pace up and down the hallway, running his hands through his own hair. When I turn to look at him, he stops and confesses, "You were right. He can't be here anymore. I can't do it anymore. When it was just me, it was different. But now it's you too, and I can't watch him hurt you." Before I can go to him, he comes to me, cupping my face in his hands. "You have no idea how much I need you, Robin. I love you more than anything."

He holds onto me as tight as he can, and then I feel tears against my face. "Oh, Max," I comfort him. "It will be all right." I kiss him as he straightens up and carries me to the bedroom.

He sits me on the bed, reaching down and tugging my panties off my leg. He walks over and drops them in the hamper, taking everything but his boxer briefs off and putting them in as well. I stand up and turn around so he can untie and unzip my dress. "Do you dry clean this?" he asks quietly. I shake my head and he puts it in the hamper. He hesitates before turning around this time and I go to him.

I curl my arms around him from behind, pressing my face against his back, kissing his warm skin gently. "Max, are you okay?" He sighs heavily, turning to the rack beside the hamper and fingering the fabric of the white silk nightgown hanging on the end of it absentmindedly.

"This is pretty," he says, obviously stalling. I smile and kiss his back again.

"I'd like to wear it tonight," I tell him. "Help me put it on?"

He turns and slips it off the hanger, then faces me. I raise my arms so he can slip it over my head, then put them around his neck as he straightens the gown. He smiles. "It's even prettier on you," he observes shyly. I smile back at him.

"Thank you." When he doesn't say anything else, I press him. "Max, tell me what you need. Please."

He takes a deep breath and strokes his hands through my hair. "Can you just hold me while I sleep?" he requests meekly.

"Of course, Max," I soothe him, taking his hands in mine and backing up. "Now come to bed."

We slip between the blankets together. I rest my head on the pillows and cradle his head against my chest over my heart. He clasps me tightly in his arms and nuzzles his face on my breast. "I'm sorry if I upset you, Robin" he whispers.

"You didn't, Max," I assure him. "I worry about you, that's true. I just want you to be happy. I feel like there… hasn't been much happiness in your life. And I'm sorry for that."

"You make me happy," he declares wearily. I run my fingers through his hair and he starts to breathe evenly against me.

I stay quiet until I know he's asleep.

Then I bend down, kiss his forehead gently, and murmur, "And you make me happy, Max. I love you."


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Max

Chapter Thirteen: Max

 **This chapter has been censored in order to abide by FFNet's guidelines. You can read the full version on AO3, Tumblr, and Wattpad.**

 **Warnings: Mention of emotional abuse. Mention of physical abuse. Mild anxiety.**

 **Author's Note: From now on, I'll be attempting to release one chapter a week until this story is finished. I'm not entirely sure how many chapters there are left to go, but I just wanted to give y'all an idea of what to expect in terms of updates.**

* * *

I startle awake in the middle of the night, my head still resting on Robin's chest. I take a deep breath to try and calm my racing heart before I slip out of bed.

I splash water on my face in the bathroom and look into the mirror. So much has happened so fast, and I think I'm afraid that I'll wake up and realize that I've been dreaming this whole time.

I just keep reminding myself that if it was a dream, there wouldn't be bad parts. Everything would be really perfect, instead of just perfect for us.

As I walk back into the bedroom, I slip my boxer briefs off and toss them in the hamper. I'd like to make love to Robin again, but she's sleeping so peacefully that I don't want to wake her.

I get back into the bed, facing her, but not touching her. I hover my hand over her shoulder and sweep it down, following the curve of her arm. I can feel the heat coming off of her skin; the urge to run my fingers over it is almost irresistible.

Instead I lean toward her, my lips as near to hers as they can be without disturbing her slumber. I close my eyes, remembering what it feels like to kiss her. Her lips are soft, plump, and full, and they taste like roses because of the lip gloss she wears. Her mouth is always hot when we kiss, and I love it when our tongues touch. It's intimate and special because no one else gets to share it with her.

I feel her move and think that she must be turning over, but before I can open my eyes, she really is kissing me. I gasp as her hands slide up my into my hair, and I cup her face, curling my other arm around her hip. Her white silk nightgown is warm from resting against her body, and all of her thick curves mold against me as I pull her close.

The kiss ends and she looks at me worriedly. I kiss the tip of her nose and apologize. "I'm sorry that I woke you."

She shakes her head. "Don't worry about that. Max, are you all right?"

I rest my head against her neck, sighing as she touches me soothingly. She always seems to know exactly what I need. I let the silence linger for a moment before I confess. "I just can't believe we're together. I can't believe that you want me." I take a deep, shaky breath before I continue. "I'm… afraid it's all a dream, Robin. I'm afraid that I'm going to wake up and be just as alone as I was before we met."

"Shh, Max. It's all right. It's not a dream. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours, Max. Forever. Okay?" She leans forward so that our lips meet again and I kiss her back fervently.

"Okay," I mumble, squirming a little against her. I'm fully erect now and starting to throb.

"Max," she murmurs, snuggling closer to me. "Please make love to me again."

I smile. "Yes," I agree, running my hands all over her. "I really do love your body," I whisper. She tenses slightly at the remark, and I rub my hand up and down her side comfortingly. "I do, Robin," I hum reassuringly, kissing her between each word. "You're so smooth and supple; I can't get enough of holding you in my arms."

She smiles against my lips as she hooks her thigh over mine. "I like your body too, Max," she replies shyly. I blush, brushing my nose over hers as I stare into her eyes. "You're solid and strong, but so gentle." She pauses, her hands tugging on the curls at the nape of my neck. "You make me feel safe, Max," she finally adds. "You make me feel loved."

"That's because I love you," I inform her quietly. I hesitate, then bashfully ask, "What else do you like?"

She laughs lightly and lowers her hand so she can run it through my chest hair. "I like all of your hair," she says playfully, kissing me "It's soft and I love how it feels against my skin." I shiver as she rubs her cheek against my beard. "Especially your beard," she purrs, sucking my earlobe into her mouth. I pant as she presses herself closer; I can feel how wet she is through her nightgown and I start to pull it up eagerly with my hands.

She gasps and rocks her hips forward against my hard length, whispering, "Do you know what I love the most, Max?" I shake my head, my cheeks blazing, panting again as she rubs herself on me. "The noises you make when I drive you wild."

* * *

A short time later, she kisses me gently as we tremble, tangling our tongues together. Then she buries her head in my shoulder, clinging to me, tangled in her nightgown, our bodies slick with sweat.

I turn my head, kissing her cheek softly. "I love you so much," I murmur in her ear. "I'm going to love you for the rest of my life, Robin." Her arms tighten around me and she presses her own lips against my beard. I can't help smiling and turning my head so our mouths meet.

"I love you, Max," she replies quietly. "Always. No matter what happens, I'll always stand by you." I shift her carefully in my arms, nestling into the bed on my back and pulling her against me so her head is tucked under my chin. She pulls the blankets up and twines her arms around my neck, resting comfortably against me. "Everything will be all right, Max," she soothes me. "As long as we're together, everything will be all right."

"Then I'll make sure we're together forever," I promise, kissing her forehead. "I'm going to take care of you, Robin, no matter what I have to do. I mean it."

"I know you do," she acknowledges. "I'm going to take care of you too, Max." She yawns and I remember that I woke her up.

"Go to sleep, Robin," I urge her. "We'll talk in the morning, okay?"

"Okay," she mumbles, snuggling into me, her lips warm and soft against my skin. I wrap my arms around her and shut my eyes, stroking her back until we both fall asleep.

* * *

When I wake up late the next morning, Robin isn't in the bed. I sit up, rubbing my eyes and looking around. There's a note on top of a pile of my clothes on the nightstand. I run a hand through my hair and pick it up.

 _I brought some clothes from your apartment for you. I'm making breakfast. I kissed your forehead before I got up._

I smile at the little heart she's drawn at the end of her words, tracing it with my finger. As I slip out of bed and start to put on my clothes, I worry that she went into my apartment alone.

Was August awake? Did he say anything to her? What if he hit her again and I wasn't there? She wouldn't hurt him; she's too kind for that. And that means he might have been able to hurt her.

I stop at the bathroom, trying not to panic. As I get closer to the kitchen door, I hear Robin humming and singing to herself. She sounds happy. Is she all right?

I poke my head around the corner and look at her. She's facing the stove, so she hasn't noticed me yet. She's wearing panties and a brightly colored thermal shirt, and she's dancing around the kitchen while she sings to herself. Her hair is pulled up on top of her head, and the waves bounce as she moves.

When she sees me, she lights up and grins, skipping over and throwing her arms around me happily. I hold onto her waist as she rises up on her tiptoes so we can kiss. For a moment, all of my worry is erased as I kiss her back.

She pulls away just a bit, kissing the tip of my nose. "Good morning, Max," she says. For some reason, I blush. She runs her fingers through my hair and beard before kissing me again. "Are you hungry?"

I nod, my brow furrowing as my earlier questions come back to me. "Are you all right?" I ask her softly, holding her against me tightly, not letting her move away just yet.

"I'm lovely," she answers soothingly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You went into my apartment alone," I respond quietly, playing with a strand of her hair.

"Oh, Max," she murmurs. "It was fine. You were sleeping, so I checked on August and got you some clothes. Nothing happened."

"He didn't say anything to you? Or…" I trail off, brushing the cheek that he slapped last night with my knuckles. She turns her head and kisses my hand comfortingly.

"He didn't say anything I haven't heard already," she tells me truthfully. "And he didn't touch me, Max. I'm perfectly fine. Come on," she urges. "Let's eat." I nod again.

We sit at the table this time, as close to each other as possible. She hooks her ankle around mine, smiling at me the entire time that she eats. She reaches out and rubs the back of my neck. "You're worrying too much, Max. I really am all right." I bite my lip, setting down my fork since I'm finished with my food.

"I just don't want him to hurt you in any way," I admit. "I want to protect you, Robin."

She sets her own fork down and slips into my lap, putting her arms around my neck. I hold her, sighing contentedly as she kisses my forehead. "I won't go alone again if it bothers you, Max," she assures me. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You were just being kind. It's one of the reasons I love you." She smiles and bends down to kiss my mouth. I kiss her back eagerly, just glad that she's all right.

"How about we move the rest of your stuff in today?" she suggests, her fingers combing through my hair. She likes to touch it; I like the way it feels. I smile up at her and nod.

"I'd really like that," I reply shyly. "I want to be here with you all the time."

"I want you here all the time," she promises me. "I love you, Max."

"I love you," I respond, squeezing her tightly. "I'll bring my things over and you can start putting them where you'd like, okay?" For a moment, she looks like she wants to offer to come with me, but then she just nods.

"Okay. Do I need to make space for furniture?" I shake my head.

"No, all of the furniture belongs to August, so I'd rather not have it here anyway. I don't have a lot of things, really." She keeps stroking my hair, leaning down to give me another kiss.

"If you need anything, let me know. I want to take care of you, Max." I bury my face in her neck, breathing her in, surrounding myself in her.

"I don't need things. I have you." She giggles happily, kissing me one more time before she lets me get up.

* * *

It doesn't take me long to get everything back to Robin's apartment. I go to check on August one more time while she dutifully puts things away. He was quiet the entire time I was moving boxes, and he stays the same as I give him his medicine.

I'm suspicious. Usually he would take this opportunity to tear me down while I couldn't get away. I take a deep breath, thinking that I might regret this, but I finally ask, "Why are you so quiet?"

August narrows his eyes as I give him his injection before clearly stating, "When your young lady came by earlier, she said that if I wasn't going to say anything nice, I shouldn't say anything at all."

I smile. "That sounds like her. But I'm surprised you listened."

After a moment, he huffs. "She said that if I didn't listen to her, I'd be sorry. I believe her."

I finish giving him his medicine, turning that thought over in my mind. August isn't used to people standing up to him. I try not to show how much satisfaction it gives me that she's the one who's intimidated him into backing down.

* * *

When I return for the final time, Robin's got everything put away except for my clothes. She comes and wraps her arms around me, leaning up to give me a quick kiss. "I think we need another dresser," she points out, and I nod.

"There's a cute little antiques store just around the corner. I could take you there tomorrow," I suggest.

"I'd like that," she remarks, gazing up at me happily.

I hesitate for a moment and then finally mention, "You told August that if he said anything mean, he'd be sorry?" I make sure that my tone is light; I don't want her to think I'm upset. She flushes and nods.

"I wouldn't really do anything to him, Max," she admits softly. "I just didn't want him to upset you. I was surprised that he seemed to believe me."

I stroke her hair back over her ear. "He's not used to people standing up to him. Thank you," I tell her, kissing both of her cheeks.

"You're welcome," she replies, brushing her nose over mine.

I smile. "What do we do for the rest of the day?" I'm so used to working to stay out of August's way that I'm not sure.

"Whatever we want, Max." She winks at me suggestively and I laugh.

"Whatever we want, huh?" I tease, scooping her up in my arms. She squeals in delight as I carry her to the bed and playfully throw her down onto it.

* * *

We spend the rest of the day inside. We make love, then shower and make dinner together. She has a lot of interesting books, so we curl up next to each other on the couch and she reads to me. Later, we make popcorn and watch a movie. I actually enjoy it, but once the couple onscreen starts making out, I pull her into my lap instead, determined to outdo them. She doesn't mind at all.

We make love again before falling asleep. I keep expecting her to get tired of it, or tell me that she doesn't want to, but every time she's more eager than the last, just like I am. It's like we can't get enough of each other.

I hope that never ends.

* * *

The next day, we go to the antiques store, just like I promised. It's empty when we head inside, so I take Robin to the counter and introduce her to the owner, Fran.

It's the first time I get to tell someone that she's my girlfriend, and I feel myself blush when I say it. She blushes too.

I kiss her head before telling her to go look around. Something at the counter has caught my eye and I want to ask Fran about it.

"Can I see that?" I gesture nonchalantly, trying to hide how nervous I am. Fran notices anyway; she's good at that sort of thing. She claps her hands together as she takes the item out of the case.

"Max, are you going to pop the question?" she teases me, keeping her voice low so Robin can't hear. I smile at her bashfully. I come here a lot, and she's one of the only people I really feel comfortable talking to.

I turn the ring over in my fingers. It's perfect. The band is gold, and there's rosebud scrollwork around the setting. The stone is green, but I don't recognize it; all I know is that it's not an emerald. I'm not very good with jewelry. Before I can even ask, Fran starts to tell me about it.

"It's a tourmaline," she informs me. "It's supposed to symbolize courage, strength, and renewal."

"I like that," I reply thoughtfully. Robin means all of those things to me. But can I really ask her that question so soon? Would she say yes?

"Having doubts, Max?" Fran questions sincerely. I look up at her, blushing again.

"We haven't known each other that long," I admit quietly. "It will be two weeks tomorrow."

Fran puts her hand over mine. "Time doesn't mean anything when it comes to love, dear. I married my husband after just a month, and we were together until the day he died." She glances into the store, where Robin is milling around looking at everything. "And she loves you, Max. It's written all over her face."

"It is?" Suddenly my mouth is dry and my head is spinning. My ears ring briefly, and I'm afraid that I'll fall apart right at the counter for a minute. Then Robin calls for me, my head clears, and I make my decision. "I'll take it," I tell Fran. She winks at me, putting the ring in a little box and letting me slip it into my pocket. She takes my card and rings the purchase up while I help Robin choose a dresser.

* * *

Later, we're walking to the same park I took her to a few days ago. It seems like so much time has passed since then, and I can barely keep all of my thoughts straight.

Robin is talking excitedly about how much she liked Fran and the store. Fran gave us a good deal on the dresser and its delivery, and she gave me a deal on the ring too. She told me that she'll be closing up soon because she's ready to retire and no one in her family wants the place. It gave me an idea; I'm going to call her tomorrow to talk about it.

But right now all I can think about is the ring burning a hole in my pocket. We stop in front of the bench we sat on the other afternoon, and Robin leans against the fence, looking out at the water. Her billowy white dress and loose hair blow in the breeze.

She is overwhelmingly beautiful. She's already said she wants to be with me forever. I shouldn't be scared to ask her to tie herself to me like this.

But I am. There's that small part of my mind that is still convinced that I'm not good enough for her, and that eventually she'll realize it. And I'm not prepared at all. I haven't planned something romantic; I don't even have a speech. My fingers twitch nervously, and I resist the urge to wring them together or click my keys. I don't want to be that man around her.

And I can't wait. I need to ask her now.

Suddenly, she's at my side, reaching up to touch my face. "Hey," she says gently. "Are you all right, Max? You're very quiet."

I smile down at her, putting my arms around her waist and holding her close. I press my forehead against hers and whisper, "I love you, Robin."

"I love you, Max," she replies, rubbing her nose against mine and giving me a soft kiss.

I take a deep breath, trying to think of something more memorable to say. I've said so much already; what's left? "I want to be with you forever," I finally start. "I've wanted you since the first moment I heard your voice in the library." I cup her face in my hand, reaching into my pocket with the other. She's looking at me curiously, seeming to understand that I'm working up to something more important.

"I don't know how to say what I want to say," I admit. "I want to be perfect for you, and I always fall so short of that mark." I sigh in frustration and she touches my hand where it rests on her face.

"Just tell me how you feel, Max." Her voice is breathless. Does she realize what's coming? Her eyes are a little glazed over, and she looks excited.

"Okay," I agree, stroking her lower lip with my thumb. I close my eyes briefly to gather my thoughts; when I open them, I'm ready. "I want to spend every minute of every day with you, Robin. I want to wake up beside you every morning and hold you in my arms every night. I want to help you find your dreams and make them real. I want to protect you, to hold you if you need to cry, to put a smile on your face when nothing else can. I don't know the best way to do that. I feel like I'll never be enough. But I want to try. I want to try and make you the happiest person alive. Please… let me."

I pull my hand out of my pocket and turn it over so she can see the box in my palm. She inhales carefully and grips the front of my shirt in her hand. "Max," she exhales. I flip the box open, revealing the ring inside.

"Marry me?" I try to sound certain and not like I'm begging, but I'm not entirely sure that I succeed. My heart is beating so hard and fast in my chest that I'm sure she can hear it. For a moment, she's frozen, and I start to babble nervously. "It hasn't been that long, but I know how I feel," I rush, tripping over the words. "I need you, Robin. I…" The words die in my mouth as her finger touches my lips.

"Yes, Max," she declares clearly. "Yes." Tears start to run down her cheeks as I take the ring out of the box and put it on her finger. Fran told me about a jeweler I could use if I needed it resized, but I'm happy to see that it fits her perfectly. Robin frames my face in her hands, sinking her fingers into my hair; I feel the cool band of the ring against my skin and shiver with delight. "Yes," she repeats, starting to laugh. It's a completely carefree and happy sound.

I lift her in my arms, spinning her around and kissing her ecstatically. I can hear people clapping in the background. I didn't think anyone had noticed us, but they must have realized what just happened.

I don't care. I ignore them.

She's mine.

Forever.

The rest of my life belongs to her.

As she kisses me back, the sunset blazing over the water behind us, I finally realize that it always has.


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Robin

**Warnings: Anxiety, Mild Smut**

* * *

I stay tucked into Max's side as we walk home. He holds my hand so that he can see the ring he gave me, putting his other arm firmly around my waist. I can feel him vibrating with energy, and I feel like I must be glowing, but we both manage to keep ourselves in check until we reach his building.

Once we're inside, I open my mouth to speak, but Max turns and presses my back against the door, leaning down to kiss me excitedly. I gasp against his mouth, reaching up and tangling my hands in his hair, moaning when his palms find my thighs and push my skirt up. "Max, we're in the lobby," I remind him. In response, he lifts me roughly; I yelp as he moves to the elevator and pushes the button. I try to speak again, but he won't let our mouths part. Our tongues tangle together and my legs twine around his waist, and suddenly I'm very glad that no one else lives here.

As he carries me to my apartment, I finally manage to say, "I dreamed about this, you know. You asking me to marry you. I thought of a million ways that it could happen, how I would act, what I would say."

Max leans me against the wall so he can unlock my door. He brushes his nose against mine and shyly asks, "Did I live up to your expectations?"

"Oh, Max," I reply, running a hand over his beard and swiping my thumb across his lower lip. "It was better than anything I imagined." He beams at me, carrying me into the apartment and backing up against the door to shut it. He reaches behind him briefly to lock it and carries me to the bed.

He throws me down on top of the covers and yanks down the front of my dress, popping my bra open to expose my breasts. He kicks off his shoes before he gets on top of me, and then everything goes hazy.

Max has never been this uninhibited before; he's always been eager, but now he's rough and primal too, as if he's trying to prove to the universe that I'm his. I encourage him as he sucks and kisses bruises into my neck and pinches my nipples wantonly.

I lose track of how long we make love. When I finally fall asleep in his arms, I'm exhausted, but I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

* * *

The next morning, I wake late. Before I can get up, Max appears with breakfast. "Good morning," he greets me bashfully, getting into bed with the tray. I rub the back of his neck soothingly, noticing that he seems distressed.

"What's wrong, Max?" He blushes, fiddling with a forkful of eggs. "You can tell me," I assure him, lifting my head so I can kiss his cheek. "I love you, Max." I take his hand in mine and he lifts it to his mouth, kissing the spot just under my engagement ring.

"I love you, Robin," he responds easily, then pauses. Finally, he whispers, "I didn't hurt you last night, did I?" He sets his fork down and gently runs his fingers over my neck. I know there must be marks there.

"No, Max, I don't hurt," I answer honestly. "In fact, I've never felt better." I lean my head against his shoulder and gaze up into his warm, dark eyes. "You make me very happy, Max." I reach up and touch his cheek.

He grins at me and I can't help grinning back; he's an amazingly beautiful man, and he's even more beautiful when he's pleased. I kiss his dimples and he squirms just a little before putting his hands on my shoulders and pressing his mouth against mine.

"Eat your breakfast," he breathes. "I hope I'm about to make you happier."

* * *

An hour later, Max is holding my hand and excitedly pulling me down the street. "Max, where are we going?" I question again. He won't tell me anything, so I have no idea what's happening.

"You'll see," he teases, hugging me to him and kissing my forehead. "We're almost there. Close your eyes."

"Close my eyes?" I inquire skeptically. I trust him, of course, but he hasn't been this secretive with me since we confessed that we loved each other.

"I'll keep you safe," he promises, his eyes sparkling. I bite my lip and shake my head at him.

"I know you will, Max. I'm just curious." I put my arms around his neck and lean up to give him a soft kiss. He takes a shaky breath and hums deep in his throat, sliding his fingers into my hair and holding me close.

When our mouths finally part, he smirks. "I'm not telling you anything," he reveals, kissing me again.

"Oh, that's mean," I murmur against his lips; he smiles.

"Close your eyes," he requests again. This time, I oblige. He moves behind me, propelling me forward gently. I step carefully; when we stop, Max curls his arm around my shoulders and presses his lips to my ear. "Open them," he instructs nervously. I can feel him trembling, so I reach up and squeeze his hand as I obey.

We're standing in front of Fran's store. It's closed because it's Sunday, and I'm momentarily confused. "Max? What's going on?" I wonder. Clearly there's something here that I'm not getting.

He rests his cheek against mine and takes a deep breath before he answers. "I bought it for you," he divulges quietly. "For us. Fran doesn't have anyone to leave it to, and no one wanted to buy it, even though it's successful for its size. But you loved it so much, and I thought… I thought it was something we could do together. You can run the store, and I can keep the property in shape. I know how to restore furniture too. It's close to our building, and there are a lot of street markets nearby where we could shop for new items." He's starting to ramble; he's nervous. Finally, he sputters, "I should have asked first. I shouldn't have assumed. I'm sorry, I…"

I turn, putting my fingers on his lips. "Max, why are you apologizing?" I feel tears gathering in the corners of my eyes at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. He's perfectly anticipated what I want before I even knew I wanted it. "I love it, Max. It's perfect. And I love you. So much." I stand on my tiptoes so I can kiss him, and he kisses me back passionately, desperately. "Forever, Max," I pledge. "I love you forever. We're going to be together forever. Do you understand?"

Max smiles down at me, lifting my body against his. "I like the sound of that," he agrees. Before I can say more, he's kissing me again. I hold onto him tightly.

My feet aren't touching the ground, so it feels like I'm floating. I'm deliriously happy, and I never want to come back down.

On the walk back, we pass by the farmer's market and Max can't resist the strawberries, which are plump and brilliantly red. At home, we sit at the kitchen table and feed each other. Max is deliberately messy, and strawberry juice gets all over my fingers.

He decides to clean them off with his tongue.

He slowly licks my pinky before sucking the digit into his mouth up to the first knuckle. His breathing gets heavy as he sucks it in further, and I bite my lip and squirm; I love the sounds he makes when he breathes like that.

"They're clean now, Max," I observe breathlessly, trembling.

He lets my finger slip from his mouth and smiles shyly at me. "I know. Now I'm just tasting your skin." I gasp as he quickly stands and scoops me up into his arms, kissing me fiercely as he carries me to the bed.

"And now I'm going to taste the rest."

* * *

When I wake up on Monday, Max is making breakfast. I walk into the kitchen and slip my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his bare back and rubbing my hands over his taut stomach. "You like making breakfast," I murmur; he chuckles.

"I like taking care of you," he responds, turning to kiss me before we sit down to eat.

He walks me to Fran's store; she's going to start showing me around and telling me how she's been running things. Max twines our fingers together and I lean against him, enjoying the breeze coming off the water and the sunshine on my skin.

When we arrive at our destination, Max is reluctant to leave. Ever since I moved in, we've hardly been apart. He gives me a long, lingering goodbye kiss, like he's afraid that I'll forget him when he leaves and he's trying to make sure I remember him.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promise. "I'm yours. I love you, Max."

His answering smile is bashful and hopeful. "I'm yours forever. I love you, Robin."

At noon, Max wanders over with lunch for all three of us. He's been working, so he's a bit messy, but I sit in his arms anyway. He protests at first, but then he can't help snuggling. Before he leaves, he kisses my cheek sweetly. "I'll come pick you up when you're done," he says. "Wait for me."

I grab his shirt and pull him back for a real kiss, which he gladly gives me. "Don't be late," I admonish him teasingly. He kisses my mouth one more time.

"Never." I stand at the door and watch him walk away; he waves before he turns the corner and I wave back.

Fran comes up behind me. "Oh, honey," she sighs, resting her arm on my shoulder. "If I were younger, you'd have to watch it, because I'd try and steal that man right out from under you."

I laugh heartily before we go back to work.

Max is waiting to walk with me when I'm finished. When we get home, we make dinner together and start to research care facilities in the area for August. I can tell that Max is still nervous about the idea, so I set my computer aside and crawl into his lap, looking up into his eyes and stroking his hair soothingly.

"Max, are you sure?" I ask. "This is a big decision, and I don't want you to rush it. You need to be okay with everything, and if you need more time, that's all right."

Max smiles at me and gives me a soft kiss. "I am sure. I'm… apprehensive, but sure. He needs someone who knows how to properly deal with his condition. He needs friends his own age. And his attitude, Robin… I can't have that around you. I want you to be happy, and I want to be happy, and we can't be happy if he's here. So let's find a place. A good one. A nice one. As soon as we can. I want to start living our life, Robin."

"We're living it right now, Max." My fingers graze his cheek. "And I think we're doing a pretty good job so far."

He replies with a kiss.

* * *

This pattern repeats every day. It's new, but it feels normal. On Thursday, as we walk, Max is quieter than usual. I squeeze his hand. "How did your visit go?" I venture. I'd volunteered to go with him when he visited the home he wants to put August in today, but he said he had to do it by himself; he still wants to keep me as far from August as possible because of everything that's happened. When he doesn't answer, I keep talking. "I just worry, Max. I want to help you. You can count on me, okay?" He nods, still quiet.

"It's a nice place," he finally says. "I don't think he's going to like it, exactly, but maybe he won't mind it. Eventually." He falls silent again. I can tell he doesn't want to talk, and I don't want to push him, so I tuck myself into his side and just snuggle close to him the rest of the way home.

Max goes to check on August while I'm making dinner. I start to get anxious when it takes him longer than usual. I take everything off the stove and head out into the hallway to look for him.

He's not there. The obvious place to check would be August's apartment, but I hesitate. It will upset him even if I knock on the door, and I don't want to upset him.

While I stand there thinking, I hear a rhythmic tapping sound coming from the walls near my apartment, so I push open the entrance by my door and step inside. It's dark, but I can still see Max at the end of the passage by the bathtub peephole. He's rocking back and forth, his arms wrapped around his legs, his head resting on his knees. I make my way carefully to him, kneeling down and touching his arms. He jumps and looks up at me in surprise. There are tear tracks on his face, and my heart clenches as I realize how distressed he is.

"Max," I whisper, my voice quivering, "what's wrong?"

He sniffles and hangs his head. "Nothing," he lies horribly. "I'm fine." I sigh, sitting next to him and pulling him down so his head is on my shoulder.

"I hope you don't think I'm going to accept that as an answer," I reply gently. "Max… let me help. Please."

He looks up and gestures vaguely to the space around us. "I always came back here to feel safe," he starts. "Lately, I hate it. It's… confusing." He cups my cheek in his big, warm hand and presses his forehead to mine. "Robin, I think… I think I need to see someone. A professional someone. I… I have a lot of problems. But I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I talk to a doctor, they'll tell me that I'm too messed up to fix."

"Max," I soothe him, slipping an arm around his shoulders and sinking my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. "You're not too messed up to fix. I know you have problems; so do I. But you're functioning in spite of them, and that's admirable. So much has changed for you recently. You can take some time to adjust before you make another change if you need it. I'm so proud of what you've done already, Max. You're very brave." I bite my lip as he clings to me and finally decide to continue. "Max, are you… are you sure you want to stay here? In this building? Considering everything that's happened here, I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave."

"I don't want to leave." His voice is firm. "This is my livelihood. I'm good at this. I like this. And it's how I'm going to take care of you. I just… I need some good memories of these spaces, I think. I just don't know where to start."

"I do," I answer softly. Max looks at me curiously and I smile. "Max," I remind him, "this is where you told me you loved me. Right here, in these walls. It's one of my happiest memories. Our first kiss was here. I know that that's not enough to erase everything else, but I think it's a good beginning, isn't it?"

Max smiles and blushes deeply, biting his lip. "I try not to think about that moment, to be honest. I was ashamed of so much that I told you. I think about what happened… later." He rubs his cheek against mine and presses his lips lightly to my neck. "When you let me be with you like that, Robin…" he sighs. "That's when I knew it was real. You wouldn't have let me do that with you if you didn't want me."

My hand slips down to curl into his shirt as I turn my head so our mouths can meet. "I love you, Max," I tell him. "I'll always be honest with you, and I'll always support you. So tell me what I can do to help you. Tell me what I can do to make these walls a happy place for you."

Max shifts me so that I'm straddling his lap. "You've already reminded me that it's becoming one," he assures me, stroking his hands over my thighs and pushing my skirt up. I gasp as he pulls me closer, my hips involuntarily rocking forward. I press my chest against his and put my arms around his neck.

"Tell me you love me," he requests desperately, his lips against my jaw. "Tell me you're mine forever. Tell me that no one has ever made or will ever make you feel the way I make you feel. Tell me that, somehow, we're going to have a wonderfully happy life, in spite of everything. And then let me make love to you."

I blush and beam at him, running my fingers through his hair and then cupping his face in my hands. "I love you, Max. I am yours forever. No one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel. No one will ever make me feel the way you make me feel. We will have a wonderfully happy life, because as long as we're together, Max, we can get through anything. I promise."

He nods, his eyes glistening with tears. "I feel the same way about you, you know."

"I know, Max." I drag my hands down his chest to his waist. "Now, Max," I purr, pushing his pants and underwear down until his cock springs free and swallowing the sound he makes as I start to stroke it, "make love to me. I want another happy memory."


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Max

**This chapter has been censored in order to abide by FFNet's guidelines. You can read the full version on AO3, Tumblr, and Wattpad.**

 **Warnings: Emotional Abuse, Mention of Masturbation, Mention of Pregnancy, Mild Smut, Mild Violence, Voyeurism**

* * *

I stand in front of the mirror and button the collar of my shirt. I stick my fingers into it and tug a little; I don't like how tight it is, but I'm trying to look formal. I pick up the tie Robin helped me choose and fumble with it as I try to put it on. I sigh in frustration when I can't get it right. I'm not good at dressing up.

Robin comes into the bathroom and stands behind me. I hang my head, not sure what to say. Today is going to be hard, and part of me wants to ask her to drop everything and come with me, which she already offered to do. But I don't want her around August. I'm used to him treating me badly, but I can't stand it when he does it to her.

She turns me to face her, sliding the tie from around my neck and setting it aside before undoing the first few buttons of my shirt. I start to protest, but she cuts me off.

"Just be yourself, Max. Be comfortable. Okay?" I nod nervously and she leans up to give me a kiss. I wrap my arms around her tightly and make the kiss linger, not letting her pull away. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" she murmurs. "Fran understands, Max; she said it would be all right. I could help."

I almost give in, but then she steps back and I look at her. Her big hazel eyes are worried, but her pale cheeks are flushed pink and she's smiling. She's happy. She's happy because of me. It's more than I ever could have hoped for, and I can't do anything to damage it.

"I need to do this on my own," I tell her firmly, cupping her cheek in my hand and stroking her lower lip with my thumb. "But I'll be home tonight, and we'll finally really be alone."

She blushes and beams, stepping forward to give me another kiss. "I'm looking forward to it," she whispers.

* * *

August is quiet all the way to the nursing home. My initial reaction is relief, but I'm worried that he'll really start in on me when we get there and that everyone will hear. When we arrive, I'm spared for a while because I have to fill out August's paperwork while he gets his medical exam. I'm not finished before he is, and one of the orderlies offers to show him around; he says it helps if the residents see everything and meet people by themselves to get acclimated.

When I'm finally done, August is already in his room. The orderly who showed him around tells me that he's fine. I strongly consider just leaving, but I steel myself and head into his room to talk to him.

"Are you all right, Grandfather?" I ask quietly, crossing my arms over my chest.

August huffs. "Why would I be all right? You're dumping me in this place like I'm trash. You never would have done this before that girl. She's the trash, Max."

My hands tighten into fists and I bite my lip hard. "This place is nice, Grandfather. They'll take care of you here. You'll have friends here. It's better for you. And she's not trash," I add vehemently, my voice rising with anger. "I love her and she loves me and she's going to be my wife." I take a deep breath; it's the first time I've told him that. I thought about not telling him at all, but I want him to know. "That means she's your family too, and in spite of how you've treated her, she wants you to be taken care of."

"It will never work," he spits out. "You're weak. She's weak. Your children will be weak. You're both disgusting perverts."

I turn so he can't see me, tears welling up in my eyes. He might be right about me; I can't deny that. But he's not right about her.

"I'll visit you when I can," I promise. "Try and get some rest, Grandfather."

I step out into the hallway and close the door, leaning against the wall and pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers. I slide my other hand into my pocket and click my keys, trying to calm down.

"Sir? Are you all right?" I look up, momentarily startled. It's the same orderly from before.

"Oh," I answer without thinking. "I, um…" I rub the back of my neck, not sure what to say. I'm not comfortable talking to most people about my feelings, and I'm desperately wishing that Robin was here.

"If you don't mind some advice," he starts, smiling at me kindly. I nod and give as much of a smile as I can muster back, so he continues. "A lot of our residents are upset when they first move in. They don't understand how much work it can be to care for them, and family members often worry that they'll do something wrong. Most of the time, they warm up pretty quickly."

"I'm not sure he will," I admit, biting my lip again. "But I hope he will."

"You're getting married?" I glance at him, my cheeks coloring a bit as my heart pounds faster. "Sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to overhear. Usually people move relatives here when there are big life changes."

"I am," I confirm. "I'm not sure when. I just proposed recently. She's… she's everything to me, and he hates her."

"Jealousy is pretty common. We'll distract him. He'll be so busy that he'll feel better in no time." I try to look optimistic, but I'm sure I don't succeed. The orderly reaches into his pocket, pulling out a card and handing it to me. "I'm Jake. You can call me if you have any questions or concerns. And the facility will call you if there are any problems."

I take the card and slip it into my pocket. "Thanks."

"No problem. Look, I have to get back to work, but have a good day."

* * *

I decide to walk home. It's a long way, but I want the time to think. I click my keys the whole way, running August's words over and over in my mind. It bothered me that he spoke harshly about Robin again, but I'd expected that.

I hadn't expected him to mention children.

I've thought about it. I mean, we've been having unprotected sex. I may be inexperienced, but I'm not stupid. I never asked her if she was using any birth control. She could be pregnant right now.

I wonder how I would feel if she was.

We should probably talk about it. I don't think I'd be a very good father.

It starts to get dark. I amble my way home, my head filled with the image of a little girl who looks just like her mother.

* * *

When I finally get back to the apartment, it's quiet. All of the lights are off except for one in the bedroom. I walk to it, leaning against the open doorframe briefly and gazing at the bed. Robin is curled up on top of the covers; I can tell from her position that she fell asleep waiting for me. She's wearing the white dress shirt I wore when we went to the art opening together.

As she shifts and rolls onto her back, I see that my shirt is all she's wearing. A shiver runs up my spine and I feel myself start to get hard.

I don't want to wake her, but I need her.

I rub my hand over the back of my neck; I'm already bathed in sweat from my walk home. I slip off my shoes and my belt and turn off the light before sitting on the edge of the bed beside Robin.

She really is beautiful. Her chin-length wavy light brown hair is mussed and fanned out over the pillow; one of her hands is resting palm up beside her head, and the other is pillowed against her stomach. Her face is peaceful as she sleeps, and I let my eyes trace the irresistible curves of her nose, her cheekbones, and her lips.

I still have a hard time believing that she's mine, even though I know it's true.

I undo one of the buttons on her shirt, resting my hand over her heart briefly before slipping my fingers underneath the fabric and stroking them over her collarbones. I tug the sleeve down from her shoulder so I can lean over and press my lips to her skin, breathing hard. I'd like to take my time, but I can't, so I quickly move my hands to her face, brushing her hair away from her forehead and then lightly pinning her hands on either side of her just like I did that first night we were together.

I run the backs of my fingers over her cheek and kiss her mouth softly, tenderly, briefly sucking on her lower lip. When I lean back, I smile fondly down at her, even though she's still asleep.

She makes me so happy.

I lift her up into my arms, cradling her head against my neck and shoulder and holding her tight, one hand buried in her hair and the other wrapped around her shoulders. I rock her back and forth, my lips brushing over her cheek repeatedly. I let her fall back again, just enough so I can see her face; that's when I realize that her eyes are open.

"Max?" she mumbles, slipping both of her arms around my neck. "You're home," she yawns, snuggling against me. "I was worried about you. I'm sorry I couldn't stay awake."

I shake my head, turning my head to kiss her deeply. "Don't worry about that, Robin," I pant. "I need you."

She gasps against my mouth as her fingers deftly unbutton my shirt so she can run her hands over my bare chest. "I have something for you first, Max," she insists. I lean forward with her, still kissing her as she takes something off of the nightstand, stripping my shirt off the rest of the way and letting it fall to the floor. I cup her face in my hands, slipping my tongue past her lips, not giving her the chance to speak. She hums deep in her throat, skimming her fingers across my shoulders before she gently pushes me back just enough so she can look up into my eyes.

"I love you, Max," she comforts me. "I know today was hard."

"The only hard part was being away from you," I respond truthfully. "You make everything okay. I love you." I try to lean forward to kiss her again, but she holds me in place.

"Just give me a minute, Max?" She's beaming again, clearly pleased that I want to give her attention, so she must have something important to tell me. I nod and she opens up her hand.

There's a ring sitting in the center of her palm. It's a man's ring, thick and smooth and made of gold. "What's that for?" I ask curiously.

She smiles. "It's for you, Max. Your… engagement ring." She blushes and takes my hand, carefully slipping it onto my finger. "I wanted to show you how much I love you."

I smile back at her, my eyes welling up with tears. "I know how much you love me, Robin. But thank you. It's perfect." She leans forward and puts her arms back around my neck, pulling me on top of her in the center of the bed.

"I'm glad," she hums. "You can keep kissing me now."

I chuckle. "Okay."

* * *

We collapse in a trembling heap together on the bed, tangled up in each other, and she moves her hands to the sides of my face so that she can press her mouth against mine. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and kiss her slowly, languidly, my chest heaving as I calm down. I rub my nose over hers, smiling.

"Are you all right?" she asks. I nod.

"I am now," I assure her, kissing her one more time before getting up so I can clean us both off. Once I'm finished, I turn the blankets down and tuck her between them before joining her. "Are you all right?" She nods, resting her cheek against my shoulder and staring up at me. I bite my lip and suddenly blurt out what I was thinking earlier. "We don't use protection when we have sex," I observe.

She smiles up at me and strokes her fingers through my beard. "No, we don't," she confirms, her voice soft and completely unconcerned.

"You're not… on anything?" I blush bashfully and she kisses my chin. "I'm sorry. I don't know if it's okay to ask."

"Of course it's okay, Max. No, I'm not on anything." She moves her fingers to my hair and I lean my head into her touch. "Does that worry you, Max?"

I hang my head as much as I can in my current position. "I was thinking about it on the walk home. I just… I don't know if I'd make a very good father."

"Oh, Max," she calms me. "I think you'd make a wonderful father."

"Really?"

"Really." She sounds so sure. "But if you're uncomfortable, Max, we can start using protection."

I get shy again and squirm a little. "I like how it feels the way we do it now."

"So do I," she murmurs before taking a deep breath. "If something happens, Max, something happens. We'll handle each thing as it comes."

I tip her chin up so I have better access to her mouth. "You want to have a baby with me, Robin?"

"I want everything with you, Max," she replies, smiling against my lips. "You're the most wonderful man I've ever met. I need you. I love you."

We kiss until we fall asleep.

* * *

She lets me sleep in. When I wake up, her laptop is sitting by the bed. There's a bright sticky note on the cover that says "Play Me" in her handwriting. Next to it is one reminding me that she's going to be gone for just a few hours to finish some business with Fran. I sit up, opening the computer and hitting the button to start the video that's on the screen, grabbing the third sticky note that she's put on the inside of the laptop.

My eyes widen as I read it. "I had cameras installed in the bedroom. I thought you might like to watch."

Everything we did last night was recorded, and now I'm looking at it.

My cheeks flush automatically. I've watched other people before, but I've never watched myself.

It's fascinating.

I shut the computer suddenly; I'm embarrassed and intrigued at the same time. I fumble around, pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, and start to pick up random clothes. When I pick up Robin's white nightgown, I pause.

I walk back over to the bed and flip the laptop open again, lifting the nightgown to my face and breathing in the smell of her that lingers on the fabric. On the video, she's kneeling between my legs. My jeans get tight.

I wish she was here to watch the video with me. I know she meant it as a surprise, and that we can watch it together later, but right now, it's just making me miss her.

I move the laptop to the nightstand, smoothing the nightgown out on the bed reverently. I lay down beside it, running one hand over the fabric and curling the other between my legs as I watch.

I touch myself, my face half-buried in Robin's clothes, and I never take my eyes from the recording.

* * *

I wake up an hour later when I hear the front door open. I roll out of bed, still groggy; I shouldn't have let myself sleep so long. "Robin?" I call her name, running a hand through my hair.

She doesn't answer. I rub my eyes, wondering if maybe I imagined the door opening. I fell asleep with the laptop on, so it could have made a sound.

I stretch, preparing to take a walk around the apartment and check everything.

Then pain blooms from the back of my head and everything goes black.


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Robin

**Warnings: Violence**

* * *

I say goodbye to Fran as I leave the store, stepping out into the sunshine and taking a deep breath. It's a beautiful day, and I feel like nothing can go wrong. I can't wait to see what Max thought of the video that I left him. I hope he liked it.

I start to walk home, pulling my phone out of my pocket as it vibrates. I'm guessing that Max is eager for me to get home.

The notification is for a new video recording. The technician who installed the cameras showed me how to set it up. He also installed a camera near the front door as part of a customer special they were running. I'm assuming that Max left the apartment for some reason, but I want to see him, so I click the notification and open the app.

I come to an abrupt stop in the middle of the street as I stare at my screen. For a moment, I can't even breathe.

Jack is entering my apartment on the video.

I'd completely forgotten about him.

Another new recording pops up. I manage to move my finger and activate it.

A strangled sound escapes me as I watch Jack sneak up behind Max and hit him on the back of the head in our bedroom; Max crumples to the floor. For a second, I think the video has frozen, but Jack is just standing there over Max's unconscious body.

I realize that I don't have much time.

I start running, dialing 911 as I go. I can barely speak when the operator picks up, but I won't stop. I manage to tell her what's happening and give her my address, and by that time, I'm at the building entrance. I fumble with my keys, holding the phone against my shoulder.

"How long will it take the police to get here?" I ask breathlessly, finally getting the door open and rushing to the elevator.

"Ma'am, are you at your apartment now? You need to wait for the police to arrive. Do not go inside."

I know she's right, but it doesn't matter. Max is up there alone with Jack, and if I wait, something worse could happen to him. The least I can do is distract Jack until the cavalry shows up.

"I'm going inside," I tell the operator. "The man I love is up there alone and he's hurt. I can't wait."

I end the call and head upstairs.

* * *

I push the apartment door open. "Jack!" I call loudly. "Jack, I'm here! What do you want?"

He emerges from around the corner, holding a crowbar loosely in his right hand. There's blood on the end of it and I whimper, reflexively backing up against the wall. "What did you do to him?" My voice quivers desperately, and there's a cold pit in my stomach.

Jack smiles slowly, hefting the crowbar in his hand and swinging it downward. My heart is pounding, and I try to focus on his face. "What did you do to Max?" I repeat, biting my lip as I start to cry.

"You don't have to worry about him anymore," Jack finally replies. "He's dead."

A ragged sob escapes me and I reach up to cover my mouth. "No. No, he's not. He can't be." The world is crumbling in front of my eyes. He can't possibly be dead. I can't lose him. Not now. I'm finally happy.

"Oh, he is, trust me," Jack sneers, darting forward and trapping me against the wall. "He didn't even put up a fight."

"Why?" I blurt out. I don't know what else to ask. "Why would you do this? I don't mean anything to you, Jack."

"You're right," he confirms. "You don't mean anything to me." He brings his hand up and squeezes my jaw hard enough to leave bruises. "I just don't like being humiliated."

He raises the crowbar, so I have to move. I push forward with all my strength, knocking him aside and stumbling toward the bedroom. I fall to my knees beside Max, but before I can check if he's breathing, Jack is behind me. I turn and throw my arms over my head; he hits them with the crowbar and I tumble over Max, smacking my face on the side of the bed.

I'm dazed, but when Jack raises the crowbar again, I grab his legs and wrestle him to the floor. I try to get the crowbar, but he's stronger than me and I can't pry it from his grasp. I need something to fight him with, but there's nothing here, and I can't run. I can't risk leaving Jack with Max.

Suddenly, a hand closes around my foot and I shriek loudly, rolling onto my back. Another sob escapes my throat as I realize that it's Max who's grabbed me. "Max!" I scramble forward, grabbing at his shoulders. "Max, you have to get up! We have to move!"

Max struggles to rise. Jack has found his bearings, and I pitch myself in front of Max and raise my arms against the crowbar again, crying out as it hits me. Max is up; he's swaying a bit, but he throws a punch at Jack and clips him in the jaw. His head is bleeding; he's not in any shape to fight, so I pull him away from Jack and to the bathroom, locking us both inside. He falls to the floor and I kneel in front of him, taking his face in my hands.

"Max, look at me. Max! Are you all right?" His fingers loop around my wrists and he stares at me, his eyes a little unfocused.

"Are you all right?" He parrots my own words back at me. "You have bruises."

I do, and they hurt, but the last thing I'm worried about is me. "I'm fine. But you're not. I need to get you out of here, Max. The police are on their way."

"How did you…?" He blinks at me blearily.

"The camera feed goes to my phone," I explain, jumping when Jack bangs on the bathroom door.

"You don't have anywhere to go, bitch! I'm going to fucking kill you!" Before, he was measured. Sinister. Now he's just angry.

I look up suddenly. He may have the advantage over me in almost every other way, but Jack is most definitely wrong about one thing.

I do have somewhere to go.

I stand up, grabbing a towel off of the rack and wrapping it around my hand. Max watches me in confusion; I glance back over my shoulder at him. "Your tools are in the passage, right?" He nods and I grit my teeth. "Good."

I take my wrapped arm and drive it through the two-way mirror, shattering the glass enough so that I can crawl through. I look at Max. "Stay here," I tell him. "I'll be right back."

"Robin," Max lurches forward and grabs my hand. "Just stay in here until the police arrive." As soon as he says it, Jack's crowbar splinters through the door, and I look at Max imploringly.

"I can't." I touch his face. "Trust me. Let me protect you." I want to kiss him, but I won't leave if I do, so I turn and slip through the mirror into the walls. I see Max's tools at the end of the hallway and make my way over to them.

I let my hand rest briefly on the nail gun by his toolbox, then shake my head ruefully. You can't kill someone with a nail gun. They have safeties, and nails don't fly in a straight line anyway; it's not going to help me stay away from Jack. I need something simple, something easy to use.

I flip open Max's toolbox. There's a hammer on top of everything else. That's what I need. I grab it and start to head back to the mirror, but then I pause.

If I use the walls, I can get behind Jack and surprise him. If I go back to the bathroom, he'll see me coming.

I head for the kitchen. I know my way through the passages now; Max showed me everything because he wanted me to be safe. I come out through the old wine closet Max has been turning into a pantry. I think about grabbing a knife in addition to the hammer, but I don't want to make any more noise than I have to.

I move as quickly and as quietly as I can, looping back around to the bathroom. Jack is still working on the door. I grip the hammer in my hand and steel myself before running up behind him and hitting him in the back of the head as hard as I can.

It doesn't knock him out, and he turns and starts to fight me. I lash out wildly with the hammer, but Jack grabs my wrist to stop me. I throw my weight against him, slamming him back against the door. He's damaged it a lot already; when we crash onto it together, it snaps off its hinges and we fall into the bathroom. Jack takes the brunt of the fall, and I use the opportunity to hit him as hard as I can with the hammer.

I hit him until he stops moving, then I drop the hammer and move back over to Max. I grab him, pulling him up and dragging him from the bathroom and out the front door.

We make it to the hallway before we both collapse. I roll onto my back. Max is on top of me; I pull his forehead down to mine and look up into his eyes. "Stay with me, Max, okay? Stay with me. It's going to be all right." He nods, his gaze fuzzy. "I love you, Max. I love you. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," he murmurs. "I love you too."

The elevator clangs as the police arrive. I close my eyes and press my face into Max's neck and just block everything out.

* * *

Later, when the police interview us, they tell us that Jack is dead.

I killed him.

Honestly, I'm relieved.

Max is all right. He has a mild concussion and they want to keep him overnight for observation, especially since my test results aren't back yet. I'm a little bruised, but other than that, I feel fine.

I lay beside Max in his hospital bed, my head resting on his shoulder. His head is bent so his nose is pressed against mine, and he's kissing me every few seconds, sweet, soft kisses that fill me with warmth.

I've apologized so many times that he won't let me talk anymore. He just covers my mouth if I try.

"I love you," he whispers. "I'm never going to let anything happen to you ever again."

I open my mouth to respond, but he kisses me so I remain silent.

The doctor walks in and Max leans back, turning his head. "Hey, doc," he greets him tiredly. "How's my girl?" His words are easy and casual for the first time since we met.

The doctor presses his lips together and sighs as he looks down at his clipboard. "That's actually what I came to talk about. Ms. Ballard, I have your test results."


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Max

**Warnings: Death, Pregnancy**

* * *

 **Seven Months Later**

This doesn't feel real.

I knew this day would come eventually, but I didn't think it would be so soon.

I stare blankly ahead of me, not really seeing anything except for the coffin.

The only thing left to do is lower it into the ground, and then it will all be over.

"Mr. Ballard? Would you like to pay your respects one last time?" I look up automatically, fingering the ring Robin gave me. That day seems so far away now.

Suddenly I'm trying not to cry. I feel horribly alone.

Then a hand curls around my arm and a voice says my name. "Max?" I turn my head and gaze at Robin, smoothing an errant strand of her hair over her ear. She kisses my palm and gives me a small smile. "Max, did you want to say goodbye?"

I nod, slipping my arm around her shoulders. "Will you be all right?" I ask worriedly, dropping my hand and resting it against her swollen belly.

In just a few months, I'll get to meet my son, Asher Bartholomew Ballard. I feel him kick and Robin shifts uncomfortably, so I rub her stomach soothingly.

When the doctor came into the room that day after Jack attacked us and said that he had the results of Robin's tests, I was scared that something was wrong with her. That even after everything we'd been through, I would lose her.

Instead, he told us she was pregnant.

I'd been mostly terrified, but she had cried against me out of happiness. Once she'd fallen asleep, I'd found the doctor and asked about therapy. He gave me some names and I started going the next week.

When Robin had expressed concern that I might be trying to do too much too fast, I had calmed her and told her that I needed to get better as soon as possible so I could take care of her and our baby.

They're all that matters to me now. Everything I do is for them.

We got married at the courthouse. Fran was our witness. It was right before she officially turned the store over to us. I took Robin's last name; I'd like to leave my family's legacy behind me and start a new one.

Things are going well. The apartments are all full, and the store's even more successful than it was when Fran owned it. Robin has several employees to help her, especially now that she's nearing the end of her pregnancy.

Then I got the call from the nursing home a few weeks ago.

August died unexpectedly in his sleep. I arranged the funeral, and I tried to convince Robin not to come today, but she had been insistent. No one else was attending, and she didn't want me to be alone.

"I'll be fine, Max," she assures me. "Let's go." I help her stand and we walk slowly to the coffin.

I never told August that Robin was pregnant. Eventually, I think he'd liked the home, but he would never give me the satisfaction of saying that. He'd never given up telling me that it would never work between us, and I hadn't wanted to bring Asher into that.

As I stare at the gravesite, tears well up in my eyes. Robin leans against me, placing her hand on my chest.

Anyone looking at us would see a wife comforting her grieving husband, but I'm only crying because I'm incredibly relieved.

I'm relieved that August will never meet Asher. I'm relieved that he won't be in the world to speak poorly of my son.

"Let's go home," I request quietly. "This is over now. I'm ready for it to be over."

* * *

Back at the apartment, I help Robin out of her black dress and into something more comfortable. She yawns and I pull her close, kissing her forehead. "Let's get you to bed, Robin. It's been a long morning."

She shakes her head. "I want to be where you are." I smile, tipping her chin up and kissing her mouth softly.

"I'm going to work on the crib," I inform her, lifting her up into my arms and carrying her into the nursery. The room itself is finished; the furniture just needs to be sorted out. There was a vintage crib in Fran's store, and I'm almost done restoring it.

I set Robin down on the couch in the nursery, making sure that she has pillows and blankets so she can be comfortable. Her shirt pulls up a little, exposing her tummy, and I sit on the floor next to her, resting my head against her middle and feeling Asher move. Robin strokes my hair and looks at me expectantly; she knows what I'm going to say.

"What if he's like me?" I wonder, looking at her with concern in my eyes. I want him to be the happiest boy in the world. I don't want to give him any of my problems.

Robin caresses my cheek gently. "Then he'll be brave and sweet and beautiful," she soothes me. "We are going to love him so much, Max. So much. You'll be a wonderful father."

She has more faith in me than I feel like I deserve, but it makes me a better man.

"I hope I will be," I admit. "I'm going to try as hard as I can."

Asher kicks and Robin's hand automatically flickers to her stomach to rub the spot. I lean forward, kissing her fingers and her belly, humming quietly. "Hey, Ash," I murmur soothingly. "Give your mom a break, huh?" His movements still; he likes the sound of my voice, and it usually calms him down.

Robin beams at me. "I love you both so much," she sniffles. She gets teary easily these days.

"I love you both so much," I repeat, smiling back at her.

She is incredibly happy, and so am I.

And we're going to be happy forever.

* * *

 **Max and Robin's story will continue in _Life Outside the Walls_.**


End file.
